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Ho u IbLE nOriENTS SERIES. 

ISSUED SEMl-MONTHLY.-JUNE 16, 1891. SUBSCRIPTION PRICE, $12.00 PER 


HIGH LIFE 

EDOUARD CADOL. 


ST. PAUL, 

The Price-McGill Company, 

1891 . 



„'(• IN PRESS ,V 


ALBANY 

STARK’S 






REVENGE 


RICHARD S. MAURICE. 


A thrilling romance of English life fift\" 
years ago. Intensel3^ interesting and abl^^ 
written. 


PRICE, 50 CENTS. 

The Price-McGill Publishing Co., 


ST. PAUL, MINN. 


o 


HIGH LIFE 


— BY — 

/ 

EDOUARD CADOL. 


fvotn tire ^vencly 



1891 ; 

THE PRICE-MCGILL PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

ST. PAUL, MINN 


Copyrighted, 1891, by R. H. Merriam 


PRINTED AND PLATED BY 

F»RIOK, MoQIL^I^ <& OO., 
8t. Paul, Munc. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP. 

I Thef Eve of Betrothal. 

II The Foreign Colony. 

Ill The Count d’ Aldaia Unexpectedly Appears. 
lY The Fourth Act of “Frou Frou.” 

V Commonplace Life. 

VI The Two Husbands of Madame Inez. 

VII Arthur’s Revenge. 

VIII Arthur de Fandansec Fights a Duel. 


IX Conclu.sion. 



# 


HIGH LIFE. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE EVE OF BETROTHAE. 

Who does not know Arles, knows nothing! 

Some will say: Allow me! I have been 

round the world ; visited Eg3^pt, India, China 
and Japan, America, both North and South. 
I have passed months at Rome, Naples and 
Venice, and have Paris at my fingers’ ends. 
Wait, I even know the Cannebiere! ” 

‘‘Possibly ! but, do you know Arles ? ” 

“No!” 

“In that case you know nothing.” 

It is not so much the arenas, or theatre, or 
sharp -pointed pavements, or the beautiful 
women, not to be met with elsewhere. It is that 
we have there a nobility counting back so far 


6 


High Life. 


that one cannot say from whence it sprung. 
A nobility, and consequently, traditions. 

Years have made no change in Arles, revolu- 
tions still less; if one may say so all has 
passed like an angry gust of wind, and in cer- 
tain families the customs of the ‘‘good old 
times” still remain firm, intact and unchange- 
able. 

This is how it happened, that on a beautiful 
evening in September, Master Pellapied, notary 
— the first in Arles, if you please! — perspired 
from every pore, while reading a diabolical 
marriage contract, in which the names and 
quality of the contracting parties, recurring 
at each paragraph, took up at least eight 
good lines of text. 

It must also be explained, that before be- 
ginning, the unfortunate notary, highly hon- 
ored moreover, had dined at the chateau. A 
dinner to be remembered, a primitive love 
feast, where covers were laid for forty guests. 

From six until ten o’clock, there had been a 
continuous stream of dishes. And what 
dishes ! A whole wild boar smothered in gar- 
lic sauce, the odor of which clung to one, fol- 


High Life. 


7 


lowed by turkeys stuffed with chestnuts and 
flanked by a haunch of venison with aspic 
jelly; the whole washed down by wine you 
could cut with a knife. What else can I recall ? 
It was a feast for sl gourmand, at the recollec- 
tion of which the notary still smacked his lips. 

Master Pellapied experienced some difficulty 
in articulating distinctly. His tongue was un- 
manageable, and the clearness of his sight in- 
terfered with by a wretched fly which, dazzled 
by the light or the grandeur of the surround- 
ings, went far to distract him. In truth, his au- 
dience were not in a state to be hypercritical, 
as from first to the last, the future bride ex- 
cepted, they had worshipped too freely at the 
shrine of Bacchus. 

The master of the house, that is to say, the 
Yidame Godefroid de Bicheterre, mounted on a 
sort of canopied throne, moved about uneasily 
as if the seat had been stuffed with thorns. 

A fat, short-necked, red-faced, good-natured 
looking man, he made superhuman efforts to 
support the position becoming to a lord of the 
manor, and of such ancient lineage. 

Next to him was placed his sister, the Can- 


8 


High Life. 


oness Steplianie, who pinched him on 

the calf of the leg, when he showed s^miptoms 
of falling asleep. The remainder of the guests, 
all cousins of different degrees, displa^^ed more 
or less self-respect and sense of decorum, but 
there were some who, in the happiness of their 
hearts, snored as if they were at vesj^ers. 
Meanwhile, our scrivener continued reading. 

‘‘In right of which, we Master Pellapied, 
Notary, as written above, declare that there 
is forthcoming to us in valuable titles of prop- 
erty, constituting the dowry of the high and 
noble demoiselle, Charlotte de Bieheterre, chat- 
elaine de Val-Entour, lady high justice 
of Puits-du-Defonds, Bertignat, the highway 
and other adjacent places, of which so much 
in houses, farms and dependencies, ponds, 
forests of high and low trees, underwood and 
3^oung shrubs, mills, lime kilns etc., elsewhere 
detailed, the total is valued at sixteen hundred 
thousand francs, not including the produce of 
claims that the said lady Charlotte de Biche- 
terre. Chatelaine of — 

“Et cetera !” muttered a cousin. 

“ Willingly” replied the Notary. 


High Life. 


9 


Then continuing : 

‘‘Is reserved expressly for production, from 
the moment that the lamentable effects of the 
rebellion of seventeen hundred and eighty-nine, 
being by the grace of God at an end, the King 
our Sire regained the kingdom of his father’s.’’ 

“So let it be,” let fall the Vidame. The 
sound of his voice suddenly breaking in upon 
the monotony of the reading, some of the 
cousins opened their eyes, and seemed desirous 
of changing their position. 

“ One moment ” exclaimed the Notary, “it is 
not finished.” 

And to their general consternation he turned 
the leaf 

“Moreover,” continued he wiping his fore- 
head, “we, Master Pellapied, notary, as above 
written, declare having received, handled and 
counted the sum of four hundred thousand 
francs, in current coin of the realm, full weight 
and good money, which constitutes the inheri- 
tance of “Joseph, Marie, Theobald, Arthur, 
high and powerful baron of Fandansec, eldest 
son of the defunct....” 


10 


High Life. 


‘‘Et cetera!” murmured the cousin, once 
more. 

^‘Certainly,— and of the defunct,” repeated 
the notary. 

Et cetera, et cetera ! ” 

‘‘Born Marchioness of Pont-Houland, Chat- 
elaine.” 

“As above,” said the Yidame, who could 
no longer restrain himself. 

“Ah! yes, yes, as above, notary !” exclaimed 
the crowd of relations. 

The good man asked for nothing better, and 
not without reason, for his throat was parched 
and his soul hankered after one more draught 
of the Yidame’s wine. “In that case there is 
nothing to do but sign,” said he. 

A sigh of relief escaped from them all. Their 
faces bright and evidently hopeful that their 
enforced duty as listeners was at an end, they 
left their seats, separated into different groups, 
glad of an opportunity to stretch their limbs, 
and keeping up conversation by fits and starts. 

During this time the notary and his clerk 
prepared the pens. When all was in order : 

“The “bride elect,” said Master Pellapied, 


High Life. 


11 


Upon which a young girl, small, dainty, ami- 
able and smiling, came forward, saying: 

“Here I am.*’ 

But the Vidame, stumbling down from his 
high seat, hurried forward frowning. 

“Gently, my daughter,” said he, in a lofty 
tone. 

The young girl stopped short, blushing to 
the roots of her luxuriant dark hair. Heav- 
ens ! how lovely she looked then ! There was 
an indefinable charm in her shy confusion. 
She did not lower her eyes; no, she opened 
them wide, amusingly astonished, as if to ask : 
What harm can I have done? Nothing be- 
yond doubt. Her readiness in coming for- 
ward, ought not to have displeased her pa- 
rents, far from it, for at one time they had 
feared that she was not kindly disposed to- 
wards this marriage, from which the family 
derived so much advantage. But the young 
girl had forgotten the famous family tra- 
ditions, and the Yidame would have preferred 
being cut into pieces, rather than she should 
be guilty of such a solecism. 

The beautiful little Charlotte, who on a 


12 


High Life. 


glance from the Canoness had resumed her 
seat, understood all this when she saw her 
father making frantic efforts to reach her. 

Let them sign, so far well ; but it must be 
with all due ceremony. And the Vidame ad- 
vancing, not without staggering, to such an 
extent as to make the Canoness wonder in- 
wardly if he could be practicing a step, took 
his daughter’s hand and led her to the table. 

She took the pen and with a firm, steady 
hand, quickly signed her name, not omitting a 
final flourish, clear and strongly defined, which 
seemed to say : I wish it, and it pleases me ! 

After which, returning the pen to the notary, 
she threw a bright glance towards the corner 
of the room where he, to whom by this stroke 
of the pen she bound herself so readil3", was 
seated. Truly, in all conscience, he did not 
merit the happy fate promised him b3^ the 
little beauty. What an odd looking bride- 
groom! What an extraordinary get-up for 
such an occasion 1 

Dressed up in old-fashioned clothes, clad in 
garments fit for a bailiffs clerk, his hair un- 
brushed, wearing a tie opposed to all the 


High Life. 


13 : 


canons of good taste, the expression on his 
pale, wan face was one of premature dissipa- 
tion. 

It was not that his features were bad. On 
the contrary. He was even distinguished 
looking. His blue eyes were n*ot without a 
certain charm, and altogether, under favora- 
ble circumstances, he might have been con- 
sidered prepossessing. 

But what a forbidding countenance at this, 
moment! His look was uncertain and 
wandering, dull and careworn. One would 
suppose that instead of a marriage, he was 
assisting at the funeral of all belonging to him, 
for at times tears glistened in his e3^es, and his 
whole being seemed to express an insurmount- 
able feeling of desolation. No danger of his 
even glancing in the direction of little Charlotte! 
When by chance his eyes did encounter those 
of his betrothed, he turned his head aside im- 
mediately, and his gloom redoubled. 

For this there were two reasons: to begin 
with, this was the first time in his life of 
twent^^-two years, that he had been present at 
such an entertainment; and forsooth, he 


14. 


High Life. 


found himself decidedly tipsy, from the begin- 
ning of the second course. 

Very carefully brought up at the seminary, 
he had, when his studies were completed, been 
confided to the care of a trustworthy tutor, 
with whom it was arranged that he should 
travel, in order to refine his manners, and give 
him some knowledge of the world. 

The tutor fulfilled his duties conscientiously. 
He was a sedate Abbe, dry as a piece of parch- 
ment, angular and rigid, but learned to a re- 
markable degree. No possible means of talk- 
ing on ordinary topics with him ; his conversa- 
tion meant a lesson on every subject. 

He had taken his pupil through Italy, Spain 
and Flanders, and as he had good introduc- 
tions to the clerical world, the travelers never 
went to a hotel. They always found either a 
convent, seminary or private house, where 
they were hospitably received. Thus the 
young man had never been exposed to the in- 
fluence of a bad example, and nothing had 
happened to prevent him deriving profitable 
information from all he had seen and heard. 
And certainly they had shown him curious 


High Life. 


15 


sights! To begin with, some Chartreusian 
monasteries, chapels and hermitages! Ah! He 
was well guarded now. The Abbe had neg- 
lected nothing. They had the worth of their 
money. 

. Yet, how singular youth is ! Arthur was not 
satisfied. Doubtless he had not yet seen 
enough of religious houses! Yes indeed, more 
than enough; too much to please him ! But the 
things of the profane world, the world that 
his soul hankered after, that was what he was 
greedy to know, and that thoroughl^^- 
The second reason for his lack of enthusiasm 
in regard to his marriage with the little Char- 
lotte arose from that. He had nothing to say 
against her. He had known her from child- 
hood; she had plaj^ed with him and was his 
cousin, four times removed. He thought her 
even pretty, amiable very attractive. But that 
was all : ‘‘very amiable ; ” that is to say, rather 
insipid, and common-place; a little missjdsh, 
he repeated to himself in secret, — where my 
good Abbe had he learned it ? — and alto- 
gether wanting in good form! Then this 
marriage was almost a continuation of the 


16 


High Life. 


same existence he had been leading; an exis- 
tence with which he was surfeited. It was all 
arranged : contract to be signed this CYcning ; 
this night, the traditional observance of the 
eve of betrothal; to-morrow, marriage at 
the church, and then, the usual weary routine 
under the eye of the Yidame, Charlotte’s 
father, and Arthur’s tutor, in company with 
the Canoness Stephanie; the whole enlivened 
by the binding ceremonial. Put yourself in his 
place. Would the little Charlotte have ap- 
peared so desirable under such circumstances ? 

What he pined for, it must be confessed, was 
nothing more nor less than “high life ; ” above 
all, not less! “High life,” with all its allure- 
ments. 

And what then ? 

Ah, well! Women; gay, fashionable women; 
women who drove in carriages, wearing rich 
laces, and using delicate perfumes. Women 
who shook hands English fashion; who held 
receptions, were amusing and clever; who 
were to be met with at watering places, like 
Etretat, and Trouville; who played roulette; 
women and adventures ; romance, caprice and 


High Life. 


17 


fancy ; races, the Bois, perfumed notes, cham- 
pagne suppers, truffles... “High life,’’ in fact. 
You know the rest ! 

Ah ! the scamp ! The damned young 
rogue ! If the Yidame had only known this ! 
It makes one shiver to think what might have 
been the consequences. Arthur, was in a state 
of constant terror, having a holy horror at 
the bare idea of such a catastrophe. And 
what about the Abbe? Ah! the poor Abbe! 
Look at his beard, his nose, what a grievous 
deception to practice on a worthy priest, who 
had watched over the young rascal confided 
to his care, jealously guarding him from all 
that was not austere and edifying! 

But, how the deuce did this infernal young 
fool get his head full of such ideas ? By what 
means had a mind naturally pure become im- 
pregnated with such vivid imaginings? By 
what devilish process had he been able to steal 
glimpses of the realities of a certain pernicious 
existence, the charms of which presented them- 
selves so attractively to his mind ? 

Don’t try to discover! I will tell you, be- 
tween ourselves. Arthur, so strictly chape- 


18 


High Life. 


roned, had managed to read; to devour bad 
tDooks, or more correctly, books which were 
dangerous — novels. If he had come across Bal- 
izac, or Sand, Hugo, nay, even Zola, it might 
not have mattered much; but, far worse 
works of perdition, productions where the 
charms of real life appeared enchanting, des- 
criptions so exact as to defy dispute; photo- 
graphs of the great world, such as it is, had 
fallen into his hands. And by whom? The 
illustrious Arsene Houssaye! 

Yes ! he had read him secretly, at night, by 
the insufficient light of a candle, straining 
nerves already over excited. Thanks to this 
teacher, he knew societ\^ ; he knew women, and 
aspired with all the strength of his heart and 
soul, to live this life, to mingle with these 
beautiful duchesses, with such faultless style, 
so distinguished and fascinating. 

To be of their day, to have a name and for- 
tune to admit of his knowing them, to mingle 
with or be connected ever so slightly with 
them, had been his dream; and now to find 
himself constrained to pass the rest of his life 
in this hole of a place; dried up, taciturn, be- 


High Life. 


19 


hind the times, a confirmed grumbler; wedded 
to a young girl, very amiable no doubt, engag- 
ing, pretty, but terribl3% ‘'bread and butter- 
ish,” in one word provincial! — Oh! what a 
hard fate! Yet again, put 3^ourself in the 
place of this 3"oung man, what would 3"OU 
have done, when the notar3" called upon 3^ou 
to sign y^our name to the contract, the con- 
tract which consigned 3-011 to this dreary fate, 
and bound you irrevocabh^ to this little hour- 
geoise? Yes, hourgeoise in spite of her aristo- 
cratic descent. 

He got up suddenh-, anger in his heart, and 
despair in his soul, kept down onl3^ by the fear 
of getting himself into trouble with his guar- 
dian, and deciding, with that feeling of desper- 
ation which one experiences when tired of life, 
and sees no other remed3"than suicide, he went 
up to the table. He was so unstead3^ that one 
of the good cousins had enough to do to sup- 
port him. He saw thirt3--six candles; innum- 
erable stars dazzled him, to such an extent, 
that he dipped his pen three times in the no- 
tary’s glass of brandy, mistaking it for the 
inkstand. 


20 


High Life. 


But at last he succeeded. The deed was 
done! 

Was he led back to his place? Did he 
find his way back alone, or did he fall down 
half way? To this day he has never been 
able to discover. Oppressed, overwhelmed, 
stunned, it seemed to him as if the ground gave 
way under his feet, and at that moment, he 
would have gladly given his four-hundred — 
beautiful, the notary had called them — thous- 
and francs for an iced lemonade. 

That effort over, the unlucky youth thought 
himself free. But not yet, however. An alarm- 
ing uproar awoke him from his state of stu- 
por. 

“ What is that? ” demanded the Canoness. 

^‘Our faithful tenants and vassals,’’ replied 
the Vidame severely. “I have had a barrel of 
wine tapped for them, and the}^ are coming, as 
is fitting, to pay allegiance to him who is 
henceforth to bear the double escutcheon of 
Bicheterre and Fandansec.” 

Upon which, setting the example, he forced 
himself to stand upright. 

“Tr3" and stead3^ yourselves a little,” said 


High Life. 


21 


he to the cousin’s, whom a lingering sense of 
propriety alone prevented from holding onto 
the wall. 

Already they heard from outside the discor- 
dant yelling of a semi-intoxicated crowd, 
shouting out a hideous chorus with the full 
strength of their lungs. Charlotte regarded 
her bethrothed husband with a smile from 
which all trace of merriment had vanished. In 
her heart, she harbored a feeling of pity for 
this ingenuous youth. 

“They have made him drink too much” said 
she mentally; “he will be ill perhaps. The 
poor, dear fellow ! ” 

Remembering, also, that in obedience to the 
family tradition, this being the betrothal eve, 
he had to pass the night alone in this hall, she 
felt uneasy when reflecting on the discomfort 
he would certainly experience. However, her 
own apartment was quite near; she had a 
small spirit lamp there, and nothing could be 
easier than to prepare, should the worst come 
to the worst, a soothing drink. She thought 
of this and it re-assured her, remembering that 
she might regard Arthur as already her hus- 


22 


High Life. 


band, and that in spite of all traditions in the 
world, she could, if necessary, without any 
breach of decorum, pass him by the half- 
opened door a glass of lemonade and a big 
lump of sugar. 

Hardly had she arrived at this conclusion, 
when the ‘‘tenants and vassals” crowded into 
the room, and began cheering with hoarse but 
enthusiastic voices. For a quarter of an hour, 
the tumult reigned supreme. The police, at- 
tracted by the cheers, appeared on the scene ; 
but happily, as the evening was far advanced, 
the crowd prudently beat a retreat. 

At the last moment, the Yidame, supported 
on either side by the elder members of the 
family, undertook to mahe a speech; he 
started well, but like a celebrated statesman, 
becoming “intoxicated with the exuberance of 
his own verbosity” he suddenly lost the 
thread of his discourse, floundered about help- 
lessl3^, and finally came to a dead stop, pant- 
ing. Afterall, what did it matter? They under- 
stood each other; understood above all, that 
the entertainment was at an end for that day, 
and they were at liberty to retire; that was 


High Life. 


23 


the principal thing and so they applauded vo- 
ciferously. 

Arthur would willingly have followed their 
example, that is, gone to his room and taken 
refuge in bed. But over and above were these 
ever-lasting traditions! And to conform to 
them, he had to pass the night in the halls of 
his ancestors ; devoting this, his betrothal eve, 
to serious thoughts, self-examination, and 
prayer ! 

Meanwhile, he had not even the energy to 
inveigh against this antiquated custom; his 
whole being was weighed down by a feeling of 
oppression, and he vaguely felt, that on the 
whole, his ambition went no further than the 
possession of a small sofa, on which he could 
undisturbed, await the end of this hard day^s 
work. 

He hardly noticed the departure of the 
guests. The noisy singing of the merrymakers 
could still be heard in the distance. The same 
vassals who, gorged to the eyes, disputed 
loudly on regaining the village. But within 
the chateau, the silence was complete, not a 
sound as to be heard. 


24 


High Life. 


Without more ceremon^L the 3"OUiig man un- 
did the buttons of his vest, loosened his shirt 
collar, and sank into the depths of ’ an arm- 
chair, that stood invitingh^ near. He had an- 
ticipated falling asleep at once, but presently 
a prickW sensation in his legs disturbed him, 
and then the light was annoying. He hesi- 
tated a long time before summoning courage 
to rouse himself, but al last arose, and 
mounting a chair extinguished the lamp. 

Finding himself suddenly in darkness, he was 
confused, and felt uncertain as to the where- 
abouts of his resting place; but becoming more 
accustomed to the obscurit}^, he began to dis- 
tinguish different objects, with a clearness all 
the more remarkable, as the3’^ seemed to pre- 
sent a most singular aspect. The light of the 
moon brought out some parts of the room in 
strong relief, leaving the corners and ceiling in 
partial shadow, which strongly appealed to 
the imagination. Turning his gaze to the 
window, the landscape lay before him de- 
serted, still, strange, with outlines strongly 
defined by the cold light of the stars. All was 
wan and pale as death. One would say a pic- 


High Life. 


25 


ture in black and white, without any mezzo 
tints; and far away a light, one solitary red 
glare, the disc of a railway lamp. Had he not 
been the Yictim of a racking headache, the 
scene would have possessed a certain attrac- 
tion for him ; but the quick, painful throbbing 
of his temples was more than he could endure, 
so with a sinking feeling at his heart, he 
turned and regained the sofa, propping himself 
up among the cushions as well as he could. 

Then, all that had transpired during this 
eventful day began to present themselves with 
more distinctness. He pictured himself at the 
table, seated in front of the wild boar, again 
listening to the toasts, compliments, ova- 
tions ; and finally the shrill monologue of the 
long suffering notary. 

He shivered at the bare memory of it. What 
was it that he had read, this scrivener of the 
devil ? A marriage contract; his.... Was it then 
really true? Was it not a dream, a hallucina- 
tion? No, there was his signature. He, Ar- 
thur had signed this contract.... Had he indeed 
signed it ? He opened his eyes, and threw an 
inquiring glance at the table. The inkstand 


23 


High Life. 


was still there with some half dozen pens ; but 
the contract? That damned Pellapied had 
carried it off and put it carefully under lock 
and key at Arles. 

Ah, that contract! What a terrible revela- 
tion it haS been to this 3^oung man ! Brought 
up as has been described; passive by nature, 
and besides, subjected to the tyranny of his 
guardian the Yidame, the Canoness, and the 
learned but strict Abbe, his tutor, who had 
taken him on sueh an agreeable and instruc- 
tive tour, Arthur had never dared to inquire 
into the monetary state of his affairs ; whether 
his parents had left him much, or nothing. So 
that this thirst for “High Life’’ which had 
siezed him on reading the works of Arsene 
Houssaye, was to him an ideal state, greedily 
desired, but altogether unattainable. 

And now this notary, this Ataster Pellapied, 
this legal functionar3q had suddenl^^ informed 
him that he was the legitimate possessor of 
“four hundred thousand beautiful francs, in 
current coin of the realm, etc,;” that he the 
said notar3q “had counted and tested their 
weight 1 ’ ’ But, then ? 


High Life. 


27 


‘‘Yes, let me think a moment: but then?.... 
Let me take a careful view of things. ‘ High 
Life ’ after all is not such an Utopian idea, so 
impossible of realization! What else had been 
said?’^ 

Of all that had taken place during this 
eventful day, this was what impressed him 
most. And he felt a savage desire to spring 
from his couch, rush to Master Pellapied’s 
office, and without any formality, say to him : 

“I am of age, so hand me over my property 
‘in hard money and full weight.’ ” 

“But”.... 

“No buts at all! I want m3^ money, ora 
summons and gallows await you! ” 

He pictured himself, imperious and angry, 
standing over the helpless notary, who 
thoroughly vanquished, would, without fur- 
ther parley, open his strong box, take from it 
a bag, and count out coin after coin, piling 
them up in fantastic heaps. A sudden slip 
and the glittering mass would fall down on 
the floor in cascaded of burnished gold. What 
joy ! What triumph ! 

Suddenly the brilliant vision faded, and 


28 


High Life. 


Arthur again buried his head in the cushions, 
humiliated, discomfited, and cried like an 
angry, frightened schoolboy. 

^‘Ah! well!’’ addressing himself with an 
accent of profound self-contempt, ‘‘are you 
incapable of daring anything, you pitiful ass? 
You are too much in awe of your guardian, the 
Canoness, and the Abbe. They will marry 3^ou 
and you will not have the pluck to whisper an 
objection! You will accept 3^our cousin 
Charlotte as your wife. She is no doubt 
pretty, amiable, but missyish and very silly; 
and you, trembling under their glance, signed 
the contract. Cowardly contemptible cur !” 

“Ah, it was a deed worthy' of 3^ou, poor im- 
becile, with no will of your own, helpless tool 
in the hands of those who have reduced 3^ou to 
the position of a mere nonentity ; I repeat it, 
it was worth^^ of 3'cu! Go! get married, you 
mean hound; accept 3^ our fate; bury 3^ourself 
alive in this wretched hole; bend 3" our neck un- 
der the yoke of those traditions at which you 
pretend to sneer ; cut your own throat, miser- 
able snipe ; lick the hand that strikes you. Ah I 
snivelling fool ! ” 


High Life. 


29 


Then seeing again, in imagination, the fiery 
disc of the railway lamp shine out from the 
surrounding darkness like a ray of hope, like 
the light '‘Hop of my Thumb’’ saw from the 
top of the tree, he heaved a sigh, saying men- 
tally : 

“It could be easily' managed. The door is 
open, the moat nearly filled up, and the road 
sure. In twenty minutes, at a good steady 
run, which would help me to digest the garlic 
sauce and leathery flesh of that wretched boar, 
— heavens, how heavy it rests! — I would arrive 
without any difficulty at the station. The ex- 
press train passes at eighteen minutes past 
midnight, and tomorrow morning I would be 
in Paris. Once there, my room taken at the 
hotel, I would only have to refresh my^self with 
a bath, hasten to an attorneys, authorize him 
to demand from Master Pellapied my inher- 
itance. What could be more simple ? ” 

The poor devil trembled with joy; he pic- 
tured the results, and the future dawned before 
him bright, sparkling, radiant, unheard of ; the 
dawn of “High Life I ” 

Ah! yes, but.... 


30 


High Life. 


“ But, you dare not,’’ he repeated to himself, 
this time with a touch of angry indignation. 

You are afraid. You are the most miserable 
h ound I ever came across in my life ! Get along ! 
Yoti have lost your last chance in life. Close 
your eyes as one does when diving, resign 
yourself to a provincial life, full of mild plati- 
tudes and stupid traditions; in one word: hum- 
drum ! ” Upon which he shed maudlin tears of 
regret. 

‘‘And all this,” he said to himself a moment 
later, “for what or for whom ? ” 

His eyes were as yet only half opened ; he 
sat up and regarded the portraits of his ances- 
tors, which covered the walls of the room even 
to the ceiling. Such a sacrifice for this pack 
of old fools, one more ugly than the other, and 
who, perhaps, were not his ancestors at all ! 

At this sacrilegious doubt, which would 
have caused his tutor, the learned and worthy 
Abbe, to shudder, the air seemed to vibrate 
with strange murmurings. All these worthies 
of both sexes, appeared to have their mouths 
open, their e3’'es rolling, amazed, scandalized, 
threatening. 


High Life. 


31 


Arthur, frozen to the very marrow of his 
bones, fell back speechless with horror among 
the cushions of the sofa, half believing they 
had hold of him b^^ his feet; and hearing 
strange maledictions in the air, his heart again 
failed him, and he once more abandoned him- 
self to helpless tears, completely overcome. 

“Let it go,” said he to himself, giving up 
all hope. “Fate has decided; nothing can 
save me. Let me sleep and learn to resign my- 
self; I have not the temperament to resist. 
Oh ! how thirsty I am ! How that garlic sauce 
burns my throat! I would give ever^^ one oi 
my beautiful four hundred thousand francs for 
one glass of cold water.” 

To be anxious to sleep, is often the surest 
means of keeping yourself awake. Scarcely 
had he begun to feel drowsy, when he would 
start up with a bound that threatened to land 
him on the floor. 

Little b3" little, there seemed to come to his 
ear a distinct strain. It was music, as if sung 
by a choir of supernatural voices. The sound 
gradually became louder, more distinct, and 
he heard : 


32 


High Life. 


“Away with timidity! 

Come to the town ! 

And still thine alarms 
With a taste of its eharms ; 

For the ‘ High Life ’ astounding 
There is ever abounding. 

So let us awa\^ 

To the ladies of Arscne Houssaye — 

Come I “ 

Then, down there, a shrill sottncl of the 

it 

station master’s horn, announced the arrival 
of the train; the tinkling of a^bell called the 
workmen to the station, and one of them re- 
peated in a severe but whimsical accent : 

‘‘Travellers for Petris cross the track ; show 
your ticket. 

Then again the mysterious chorus recom- 
menced : 

“Your presence awaiting, 

They stand at the skating. 

At the stalls there’s a place, 

There to bet on the race. 

q 

On the Mirliton scroll 
They your name will enroll,® 

While the ‘ High Life ’ you learn 
Causes temples to burn. 

So let us awav 

To the ladies of Arsene Houssaye — 

Come ! ” 

This was too much ! His courage rose, and 


High Life. 


36 

excited almost to delirium he started up, re- 
buttoned his vest, arranged his collar, and 
looked around for a hat, his own or anybody 
else’s, — it did not matter which, — he would 
even go without, if necesssary. 

But, oh horror ! Oh miracle ! a veritable in- 
tervention of Providence ! 

As he raised his e^^es in the direction, where 
he might hojje to find the object of his search, 
he stopped transfixed with horror. The an- 
cestors had come half-way out of their frames, 
and shook their armour, holding towards him 
entreating arms, clothed in their coats of mail, 
and shedding burning tears through the open- 
ing of their visors. 

They also gave voice to their sentiments in 
song, and although their visors imparted a 
cracked tone to their voices, Arthur was not 
the less impressed by their eloquence. 

They said, — thirdly: 

‘‘Don’t go there! 

For in its trend 

Is grief and sorrow without end.” 

There was without doubt, a few feet too 
many in the last verse ; but. we must make 


34 


High Life. 


allowance for the emotion which stirred these 
defunct heroes. But the young man did not 
hesitate. Had he observed them? No one 
knows. 

One thing is certain. He found himself tear- 
ing through the country breathless, dazed, his 
hair streaming in the wind. He moved along 
like a phantom, going straight ahead, clearing 
fences and ditches, getting over walls as if by 
magic, at such a rate that he arrived at the 
station — his wished for destination — just at 
the moment when the signal was given for de- 
parture. He had a terrible struggle with the 
authorities who, according to rule, insisted on 
his waiting for the next train. 

But escaping them, he opened the door of a 
first-class carriage. From the station master 
to the porter, all hung on to the skirts of his 
coat, exclaiming, calling out to the guard, and 
swearing by the Gods he should not go. 

Unfortunately for them, the Gods, perhaps 
being taken unawares, turned a deaf ear to 
their prayers. The cloth gave way in their 
hands, a whistle grated harshly an the ears of 
the grinning crowd, and while they struggled 


High Life. 


35 


together on the ground, a confused heap of 
arms and legs, the train went off, like an 
arrow “shot from the bow by an unerring 
hand.^^ 

When the half hour after midnight struck^ 
a door in the ancestral hall was gently 
opened and a small rosy face, muffled up in a 
white bordered cap, which imprisoned the 
masses of silken hair, half revealed itself. 

It was Charlotte. Closely enveloped in a 
gre3^ woolen dressing gown, she held a cup and 
saucer in her hand, on which rested a silver 
spoon that rattled at every throb of her heart. 
The darkness prevented her seeing anything, 
she listened ; — not a sound. 

“He is asleep,” said she tohenself; “so much 
the better. Poor fellow!” and she disap- 
peared. 

Returning to her own room, Charlotte drew 
an arm-chair near the door and seated herself, 
determined to sleep with one eye open, and to 
listen, saying again softly: 

“Poor fellow! 


CHAPTER II. 


THE FOREIGN COLONY. 

Near the upper end of the Boulevard Hauss- 
mann, in that picturesque and shady corner for- 
merly known as the Beaujon Quarter, stands 
a small hotel, surrounded by gardens, wdiich 
shelter it on the right from a boarding-house 
— a faA'orite resorts for Americans, affording a 
fertile soil for flirtations — on the left, by a 
chocolate colored edifice, with raised terraces, 
adorned with statues, almost as open to ridi- 
cule as he who was capable of designing such 
a grotesque building. 

The facade was in freestone, hacked up into 
garlands and masks of delicate design. A sort 
of winter garden, thickly planted with foreign 
exotics, formed a companion on the one side 
to a billiard room, improvised too late, on the 
other. 

At the windows hung curtains of hand-made 


High Life. 


37 


lace, lined with tinted silk, which displayed to 
advantage the fantastic variety of the stitch. 

On the street — la Rne Balzac — two pavil- 
lions took from the width of the principal en- 
trance; the stables faced the back of the house. 

The establishment consisted of a porter and 
his family, two footmen, a valet de chambrey 
a chef and his assistant, the butler, a coach- 
man and .stable boy. A sewing woman, with 
her own servant, two chamber maids, and a 
general servant, formed the female depart- 
ment. And in order to keep up to the standard 
of correct style, a groom ! 

Everything else was in keeping; and, when 
the carriages were ordered out, people 
sought their balconies fora breath of fresh air. 

In short, a delightful home, surrounded with 
every luxury which wealth could command. 

The mistress of this charming retreat was 
what is designated in these days a “star;’^ the 
star of the foreign colony, the beautiful 
Mme. d’Aldai'a; better still, the Countess 
d’Aldaia, a South American, speaking with 
a slight Portuguese accent. She was suffi- 
ciently a blonde to be fqrgiven for not being a 


38 


High Life. 


brunette— -the one true color!— her hair was 
the shade of over-ripe grain ; of a pale dull tint, 
having a charming effect. Her eyes were 
dreamy, unfathomable, with a most singular 
blending of exquisite delicacy, not of the tex- 
ture of satin, but of taffeta, fine enough to 
have been woven by the Gods. 

Her small acquiline nose and rose tinted 
nostrils, her mouth, ears, neck, shoulders, figure, 
all combined to form an entrancing picture; 
one to gaze upon through all time, to worship 
as before a shrine 1 

Assuredly, beauty is a matter of taste, and 
each person has his own idea; but there could 
be but one opinion about this woman. She 
was so pretty, and at the same time so beau, 
tiful — two words which convey a very differ- 
ent meaning — that one involuntarily paid hom- 
age at first sight. 

And homage, combined with respect, so roy- 
ally did she carry herself amidst her magnifi- 
cent surroundings. 

Her power embraced even her own immedi- 
ate circle, or rather her husband’s, for she en- 
tered into none of those small intimate friend- 


High Life. 


39 


ships, which are so often tolerated by the 
society of today, in spite of the opportunities 
for slander which they afford. 

A strange man, her husband! Above six 
feet in hight, with hands large enough to fell 
an ox, but well formed in spite of that ; square 
cut figure, solid and majestic. His dark eyes, 
wavy black hair and beard, added to his olive 
tinted complexion, betrayed his nationality. 

‘‘A Brazilian! ” was the general remark. 

He was indeed a native of that distant 
country, though it was not an easy matter to 
determine his exact standing. For all that, 
in the absence of a birth register, he held 
papers, which proved him bej^ond doubt, the 
Count d’Aldaia. 

In addition, one had to exercise a certain 
amount of prudence in addressing him, for at 
times you would surprise a sudden light in his 
eyes, betraying the fact that he was not a man 
to be trifled with. This look, accompanied by 
an almost imperceptible clenching of the 
teeth, which he gave way to on the slightest 
provocation, acted as a chill on an}^ attempt 
at pleasantry. During his youth, he had had 


High Life. 


4C 

to display uncommon energy, and if he occu- 
pied a high rank in the world and maintained 
a princely retinue, he owed it to his own exer- 
tions, or at least, to the courage and strength 
of character, which enabled him to make 
others toil, so that he might profit. 

An indefatigable traveler, at one time a 
trapper, then a corsair, and on occasion a free- 
booter, he had seen Hfe in all its phases, and 
had more than a hundred times staked his life 
freely on the side it suited his interests to es- 
pouse. 

Finally, he had been a Charlemagne in his 
own country, and although frequently acting 
in opposition to the reigning powers, was held 
in general esteem, even by his most bitter op- 
ponents. Many rulers on the African coast 
even went the length of regretting that he had 
abandoned the traffic in slaves, such a grate- 
ful recollection did they retain of his commer- 
cial transations with them. But what could 
he do ? There was a limit to all things, 
and finding himself one day the owner 
of a mine yielding enormous quantities 


High Life. 


41 


of gold, he thought that after such a hard life, 
he was entitled to a little well-earned repose. 

It was with this intention, that he crossed 
over to Europe, where in spite of the notoriety 
attaching to him in other lands, his name was 
unknown. The recipient of a princely income, 
he travelled all over Europe, but, whatever the 
attractions other capitols might possess for 
him, Paris alone was the one spot where he 
felt tempted to fix his penates. 

It is possible the Countess had something to 
do with this; but we cannot affirm it. Any 
way, they at once took a high stand in so- 
ciety, making their house the center for all the 
leaders of fashion, and when they received at 
their hotel, reporters were kept busy and the 
papers were filled with laudatory praises of 
the charming Countes d’Aldaia. 

One winter evening, they had a few friends 
to dinner, people of undoubted position. 

To begin with, the Baroness dTosk, a 
woman still young, but at the same time fully 
matured, and with irreproachable manners. 

Her husband follows. For him the word 
still would be out of place; at the most, he 


42 


High Life. 


might be tweiit^^-five years old, but he did not 
look it. His beardless faee bore the appear- 
anee of extreme youth, although his heavy 
bass voice proved that, within this juvenile 
frame, there was a man ! 

The lady came from Toulouse, where her 
-parents had kept an ale house, largely patron- 
ized by officers of the army. The baron was a 
native of Edinburgh. 

How did it happen that these two, born at 
such a distant date and so far from each 
other, had appeared before the ma^^or of one 
of the arrondissement of Paris ? Different con- 
clusions were arrived at, not any of them sa- 
voring too much of Christian charity. What 
did it matter ? The fact was there, certain, 
unanswerable. No two people existing could 
boast of being more married than they were, 
and both gave one the impression of regret- 
ing this nielanchol3^ fact. 

Accompanying this part\% was a personage 
of great importance: the Prince Swenska, a 
real prince, born somewhere in Finland, and 
almost a sovereign. Onecannot exactly say in 


High Life. 


43 


what ducliA^, but somewhere under the politi- 
cal influence of the Czar. 

Tall, thin and dry as the timber of his own 
country, he carried, on a neck of immoderate 
length, a small straw colored head adorned 
with hair so exactlj^ of the same negative tint, 
that he presented the appearance of being en- 
tirely bald. Happily his eyebrows and lashes 
were white, which permitted their being seen, 
and, starting out of this bleak foreground, 
were two small black ej^es, giving a most sin- 
ister effect to the whole countenance. 

In addition, but occupying a secondary 
place in the opinion of their hosts, was a Wal- 
lachian major, who, when he spoke, gave one 
the impression of having swallowed a drum; a 
soft flabby personage, clinging as a limpet, 
and exasperating enough to bring tears to 
one’s eyes. He was literary in his tastes, 
wrote articles for magazines consecrated to 
the emancipation of the Israelites inthe East; 
called himself professor of Magyar and Chinese; 
an unintelligible interpreter of the different 
Japanese embassies; and lately married to the 
wealthy widow of a manufacturer of paint for 


44 


High Life. 


dramatic artists, which article he dispensed 
not too lavishly among the upper ten. 

Then came a few hangers-on, young men of 
no particular standing, occupying the same 
position in society, which on the stage is des- 
cribed as ‘‘guests.” 

Giving the accustomed signal to the Baron- 
ess, the Countess arose from the table, on 
which these last named personages showed a 
tendency to plant their elbows, and retired to 
a small drawingroom where coffee was served. 
Casting around her the comprehensive glance 
of the careful hostess, she lay down on the 
couch, and burying her little feet under a mass 
of embroidery, she gave herself up to thought. 

To judge from the slight frown, which drew 
down her exquisitely defined eyebrows, her 
reflections were tinged with melancholy, en- 
hancing the severe, cold, inexorable style of 
her beauty. 

To see her thus, one would have wished to 
be master of the world, in order to lay count- 
less treasures at her feet, his crown and him- 
self, for the pleasure of recalling her wonted 
serenity, and provoking the smile which 


High Life. 


45 


brought an indefinable, lovely dimple to her 
velvety cheek. 

Why should she be so pre-occupied ? What 
could have happened to sadden her ? 

For about four months past, the Count^s 
temper had become uncertain, gloomy and 
morose, and even his health had become im- 
paired. He, formerly so exact and methodical 
in his habits, had lately become careless, and 
neglectful of his appearance. On one occasion 
the Countess, coming suddenly upon him, had 
surprised him working busily over accounts, 
consulting letters and telegrams, marked with 
the placer stamp, but of which he had never 
spoken to her. 

It was evident that he had received disa- 
greeable news, and of a very serious nature. 

It was this which had effected, in so incredi- 
bly short a time, such a change in this 
strange, stern man. In fact, he was no longer 
recognizable. Hitherto upright and dignified 
in his appearance, he had now lost that com- 
manding presence which had so distinguished 
him. His clothes hung loosely on him; his 
hair had turned gray, and in some places he 


46 


High Life. 


was quite bald; his eyes were sunken, with 
dark brown cireles around them; and his 
cheeks hung down flabbily on his neck, which 
resembled nothing so much as a package of 
cord, so clearly discernable were the muscles 
and nerves. 

When he took his place at the table, it was 
simply to keep up appearances, as he scarcely 
tasted anything, merely touching with 
his lips a glass of wine and water, he whose 
habit it had been formerly to devour with the 
appetite of a wolf, and gulp down copious 
draughts of burgund^^ and champagne. 

Then this brilliant traveler, who never tired 
of relating his own varied experiences, now 
sat silent, taciturn, lost in thought, for hours 
together, his eyes fixed on vacancy. 

There must be some cause for this. He was 
passing through some crisis, and appeared the 
mere shadow of his former self, the faded like- 
ness of the old trapper. Only at times, an unex- 
pected light in his dark eyes would recall the 
lightning glance which had the power to in- 
timidate whole tribes of refractory or rebel- 
lious Indians. 


High Life. 


4T 


This particular evening, however, he had 
kept up appearances pretty well, and his con- 
versation was not without a certain amount 
of vivacity. 

They talked politics it is true ; and although 
our affairs did not in any way concern him,, 
who had bartered slaves and brained more 
than one, on little or no provocation, pillaged 
and burnt whole villages, he prided him- 
self on being so ‘^honest and moderate ” that 
he would have reduced to nothingness, after 
the fashion of St. Bartholomew, all those wha 
came under the head of liberal. Ah! by Jove I 
he was a man of principle I 

When they had argued and talked long 
enough to aid digestion, he gave the signal for 
a general move to the drawing-room. 

Hearing them come, the Countess gave her 
lovely head a shake, as if to chase away the 
thoughts which had taken possession of her^ 
and rang for coffee. While the guests partook 
of it, continuing their discussion, she signed to 
her maid, who assissted in serving, to draw 


near. 


48 


High Life. 


“Did you see the person who waited here 
such a long time ? she asked. 

“Yes, Madame: the upholsterer.’’ 

She hesitated before asking more, but 
American or French, no woman can conquer 
the curiosity which was the means of chasing 
us from our earthly paradise; besides in this 
case, such great interests being at stake, she 
overlooked the seeming impropriety and added : 

“Wait, one moment, Fulgence.” 

“Madame? ” 

“Did the Count see this upholsterer? ” 

“He was compelled to, in the end, for the 
man said he would not go away without his 
money if he had to stay all night.” 

“Ah ! he said that ! ” repeated the Countess 
in an astonished tone. “And did he get bis 
money, do you know?” 

Fulgence, looking in the opposite direction, 
and affecting an air of extreme innocence, 
replici : 

“I cun not certain, Madame. I only 
know that the man slammed the door, and 
cried out to my lord : ‘ You will hear from me 
soon ! ’ ” 


High Life. 


49 


^‘Impossible! Perhaps, Fulgence, you did 
not hear distinctly? 

“Ah ! yes, Madame, I did; but I thought per- 
haps the man had been having too much beer. 
How else could it be explained ? ’’ 

“That is enough,’^ said the Countess, anx- 
ious to cut short the voluble criticisms of her 
maid. 

But her heart sank, and instinctively she 
glanced in the direction where her husband 
stood, talking to the Baroness, at the other 
end of the room. 

She watched him attentively for a long time, 
and was struck by the ravages a short period 
had wrought in his appearance, he who was 
known among the Indians, as the “terror of 
the Pampas.’^ 

“Could it be true? He who, when roused, 
people turned away from as from an enraged 
tiger ; he who had faced the wildest tempests; 
and formiere amusement, had attacked bears 
in their caves ; he to allow this vulgar trades- 
man, a mere journeyman, to address him inso- 
lently and contempuously I “ 

It seemed to her as if this was the end of all 


60 


High Life. 


things. What could have happened to place 
him in such a humiliating position ? 

Sunk deep in thought she did not perceive 
that the others had left the room, and that 
she was completely alone. 

After taking coffee, the Prince Swenska pro- 
posed whist, and they had withdrawn to the 
card room so that they might smoke while 
playing. 

The Baroness had followed the gentlemen, 
fearing her husband might forget the late 
hour, or, worse still, allow himself to be car- 
ried off to the club, of which they were all 
members. She wished him to accompany her 
to a ball, very generally discussed in the fash- 
ionable papers for the last fortnight. The en- 
tertainment was given by an old Vice-Admiral, 
lately returned to France, in honor of his 
niece, who, until now, had lived in strict se- 
clusion in the country. 

Suddenly the footman announced: 

“Monsieur de Fandansec.” 

At the sound of this name, breaking in so 
tmexpectedly on her reverie, the Countess 


High Life. 


51 


could not repress a start, and, with a strangely 
fixed gaze, she murmured: 

• ‘ He!’’ 

It was indeed he ; no other than Arthur ; al- 
though the same announcement would have 
been necessary had the Vidame and the Can- 
oness been present ; for, never in their lives^ 
would they have been able to recognize him as 
he appeared now. 

He was absolutely transformed. His hair 
was brushed down in two little bands, a la 
Capoul, which covered half his forehead; 
freshly shaved, glass in eye, his face almost 
hidden by a collar reaching to his ears, and 
well opened at the throat, he presented the 
appearance of a donkey looking over a white- 
washed wall. 

Wearing a white tie, black coat, well opened 
waistcoat and black trousers with silk stripes, 
widening elegantly at the end, in the form of an 
elephant’s foot, over boots picked out in 
Arabian characters, he presented a most ex- 
traordinary appearance, in every way calcu- 
lated to arrest the attention of the passer-by. 
Indeed this happened frequently, when about 


52 


High Life. 


five o’clock, he drove a pair of spirited ponies 
carefully up the Champs -Elys&s. He could 
not pass without being observed. He wore 
coats such as no else had; a hat with such a 
narrow brim that had it not been for the color 
anyone might have mistaken it for a fez. As 
for his trousers, he exacted from his tailor that, 
when made, the rest of the piece should be de- 
stroyed. 

In addition to these peculiar idiosyncrasies, 
he affected an accent in the pronunciation of 
some words which was altogether original. 
Thus, his ^‘Chere Madame” was metamor- 
phosed into “Chri'e Medeme,” followed by a 
shrug of the shoulders, altogether inimitable. 
His was the finished type of the man of the 
world, of the man who knows how to live, of 
the man who, on arriving at his prime, takes 
his seat in the legislature, and, as is becoming 
one of The leaders of the upper ten, helps to 
elevate the masses. 

As for Arthur, he had not arrived there yet, 
and concerned himself as little about the legis- 
lature as he did about his first Coral. A very 
different anxiety occupied his thoughts. Like 


High Life. 


53 


many others, he had fallen a victim to the 
beautiful Countess, and, dissimulation being, 
in his opinion, an infamous vice, he declared 
himself in terms as glowing as they were pre- 
cise. 

What did she think ? He could not exactly 
say. She had smiled, certainly, but a smile 
open to different interpretations. To avoid 
any misconstruction, he had even gone the 
length of sending her letters, which had not 
been returned, but to which he had received 
no answers. His passion had redoubled; he 
had watched for opportunities for holding pri- 
vate conversations with her, arranging mat- 
ters so skilfully that on more than one occa- 
sion he had been able to secure a tete-a-tete in 
the midst of a crowded drawing-room, or in 
the dim recesses of some curtained retreat. 

Ah ! how uncertain, how hard to understand 
this Countess was ! All his eloquence had only 
been able to elicit vague answers, a slight 
shake of the head, which seemed to imply a 
doubt of the sincerity of his protestations, in- 
terjections uttered at random, at the most, a 
furtive pressure of the hand; no encourage- 


54 


High Life. 


ment in tliis mere trifling, the little triflings of 
a platonic flirtation. 

And yet he spared no pains ! He entertained 
her with all the gossip commonly reported 
about the Count, laying before her how un- 
fortunate she was in being condemned to such 
unworth}^ companionship; boldly affirming, 
that for the honor of her sex, she ought not to 
allow it to be supposed that his society could 
possess an3" attractions for her, either one way 
or another. 

But his labor was thrown away, she said 
neither 3^es nor no, and Arthur though irrita- 
ted, would return to the charge again and 
again, with the obstinacy of an ignorant fool. 
Sometimes she would sa^" to him, heaving a 
deep sigh : 

“Do you know who I am? Am I worthy 
the affection of such a high-souled being as 
you?’^ 

This he attributed to mere coquettery, ex- 
.cept at times, when falling into the snare, he 
would undertake to prove, that she hardly did 
herself justice, and carried away by the 
warmth of the debate, he would call her — and 


High Life. 


55 


without any authority from her — by her 
Christian name: Inez ! 

How scandalized she was the first time ! It 
was most evident she was a pure-minded and 
religious woman ! But what was to be done ? 
He was too deeply enamored to perceive the 
lady’s indifference, so much so, that at last, 
tired of wasting her indignation to no purpose, 
she allowed him to talk, and not to be too dis- 
obliging, mingled some ^‘Arthurs” with her 
replies ! 

In short they had arrived at that psychol- 
ogical point, recognized as ‘‘Platonism” — 
namel3^ that perfect union of souls and mutual 
asperation towards a “ better- world ” — in fact 
every possible romantic quibble, prevailed in 
their friendly intercourse. At the most, dur- 
ing these chaste effusions, which were alto- 
gether free from mere material vulgarity, 
would she allow herself to indulge in a sneer 
at her husband, and not less, at the institu- 
tions of an artificial society, which refuses 
harshly to women, many indulgences of a high 
order, and unquestionably legitimate. 


56 


High Life. 


Countess d’Aldaia was careful not to com- 
mit herself. 

Their conversations were simply an intellec- 
tual interchange of ideas, mutually flattering, 
in that a high sense of honor was observed, 
^ thus adding enormously to their self-esteem. 

Only in the long run, Arthur began to tire of 
wandering about in these sublime heights, and 
as any descent to a lower position was im- 
possible in such elevated society, he strove to 
discover some other honorable means of res- 
cuing the Countess Inez from the bondage of a 
husband, who undoubtedly wearied her. 

About this time, the question of divorce was 
agitating the philosophical world, and some 
very excellent views on this subject were pub- 
lished, opinions which had already been aired 
perhaps, but which none the less appealed 
strongly to the young man’s imagination. 
He greedily devoured all that was written on 
the subject, and remained convinced of the ur- 
gent necessity there was to modify the exist- 
ing code touching this law. 

For as much, thought he, as it would be un- 
becoming for Inez to indulge in thoughts of 


High Life. 


57 


an unlawful connection, so would it appear 
honorable in him, to propose a marriage, after 
a divorce was granted. The dignity of each 
would thus be satisfied. 

But, however eloquent might be the plead- 
ing of these philosophers, in favor of the re-es- 
tablishment of this institution, the legislature 
did not seem to give it all the attention de- 
sirable. Admitting even, that by returning 
again to the charge, these writers and mora- 
lists succeeded in drawing attention to the 
subject, it was to be feared that in this 
country, where there was so much routine to 
be observed, the affair would drag along end- 
lessly, and it can be readily understood that 
our young Lothario, was not in a mood to 
wait. 

One evening, not knowing exactly what to 
do, hesitating between going to the club to 
take a hand at baccarat, or going to his room 
in order to indite some more burning protesta- 
tions to Inez — my God ! what volumes he had 
sent her! but in a stjde, be it understood, ex- 
tremely proper, though at the same time im- 
passioned— he saw the announcement for that 


58 


High Life. 


evening’s performance at the Vaudeville. It 
was a new piece: “Madame Caverlet” by the 
most celebrated dramatist of the time. 

This was not the reason which determined 
Arthur to secure a place. We know his 
thoughts were elsewhere. He decided to see 
this piece merel3"to pass the time and to divert 
the current of his thoughts. 

But what an agreeable surprise awaited 
him! At the first interlude he asked himself 
what hidden inspiration had guided him there, 
an intervention of his Guardian Angel. He had 
been brought up at the seminary, and fimly be- 
lieved in this possibility, to such an extent, 
that at times it was troublesome to him. 

He listened to the entire piece with wrapt 
attention, so as not to lose a single syllable. 
Did he appreciate the clear, full and powerful 
characteristics which distinguished this au- 
thor? I cannot answer for it. That which he 
remembered most distinctly was this, that in 
becoming a proprietor in the Canton of Gen- 
eva 3"ou could be naturalized ; from which fol- 
lows, that you could obtain this famous di- 


High Life. 


59 


'\rorce which these devils of French legislators 
have so much difficulty in awarding. 

Forthwith, the pla}" being ended, he hastened 
, to his club, ordering a footman to bring him 
at any price the “ Advertiser.” 

At twb o’clock in the morning he was still 
occupied in searching among the advertise- 
ments for the sale of some property in this de- 
lightful region, so favorable to the indulgence 
of lawful love. 

This accomplished, his plans were soon ar- 
ranged. 

What could be more simple, if Inez really 
loved him ? And why should he doubt it ? She 
would welcome with unmingled delight this 
project of proposed flight. 

One happy morning they would both leave, 
these two, all alone in a private carriage, en- 
gaged beforehand. They would breakfast at 
Dijon — first class buffet — and eighteen hours 
later they would register their names at the 
Hotel des Bergues, at Geneva, or even at the 
Beau-Rivage, under a false name, so as to mis- 

ad any pursuers. 

One person alone in Paris would know their 


60 


High Life. 


address, a friend of Arthur’s, a most worthy 
friend, a thoroughly good fellow, although 
with no good looks to recommend him and awk- 
ward in his movements. A scampish little gov- 
ernment clerk; Anatole Peignard by name, 
who looked up to Arthur as to a god, dazzling 
in distinction, intelligence, and superior style. 
Anatole would keep them posted as to the 
movements of the Count, and when, with the 
lapse of time, the world would have forgotten 
the event, they could attend to all the formali- 
ties necessary for the realization of this delight- 
ful project ! After which, strong in the legality 
of their bonds, they would return and display 
their happiness before all Paris, under the eyes 
of those who, however much they might envy 
their fate, had not the energy to follow their 
example. 

What a beautiful dream ! The delightful in- 
timacy in their future home — such as he had 
witnessed in the first act of “Madame Caver- 
let.” And what a charming life they would 
lead therein — all honor, be it understood — until 
their union could be legalized and sanctified, 
their souls transported with the grand specta- 


High Life. 


61 


cle of this Lake Lemon — so immortalized by 
Byron — these everlasting snows which spar- 
kle there, less eternal and less pure than their 
celestial love ! 

The first time that Arthur broached the sub- 
ject to the Countess, she appeared simply sur- 
prised. There was no display of either repug- 
nance or pleasure, only an inexplicable look of 
doubt in her eyes, as she gazed at him inquir- 
ingly. 

^‘Are you speaking seriously?’^ she asked 
him. “You, Arthur, you would really go so 
far?” 

“It is only an eighteen hours’ ride,” he an- 
swered ingenuously. 

But here the entrance of a visitor prevented 
them from discussing the subject any further 
on that occasion, and since then the beautiful 
Inez seemed anxious to avoid any return to it. 

Arthur, naturally, was discontented, but 
would not allow himself to feel offended with 
her. She had evidently some scruples to over- 
come. He could understand this, and in his 
heart liked and esteemed her all the better 
for it. 


62 


High Life. 


Yet, in the long run, this idea began to pall 
on him. He esteemed her, it is true, that was 
understood ; but there must be a solution to 
this difficulty, and in all honor and loyalty, he 
would again point out to her the necessity 
there existed for the immediate adoption of his 
plan. 

Then followed some heart-rending scenes be- 
tween them. If she did harbor scruples — good 
heavens! was she altogether without princi- 
ple, and could he with any decency reproach 
her, when this was the reason he held her in 
such high esteem and veneration ? 

Good God ! how embarrassing it all was I 

A fortunate circumstance gave our young 
hero a chance of bringing matters to a crisis, 
without appearing to despise the conscientious 
scruples of this lady love. 

This young stranger, in whose honor her un- 
cle, the Vice-Admiral was to give a ball, had 
been indirectly offered to Arthur as a future 
wife. Gut of politeness, and also perhaps a 
little diplomacy, he agreed to be present at an 
inteview, cleverly arranged by one of the in- 
terested parties. 


High Life. 


63 


It was agreed that he should be present one 
evening at the Opera — Comique, when she 
should be there; Arthur occupying a place in 
the dress circle, the family of the young lady 
in a private box. During the first act they 
had free license to scrutinize each other at will, 
their opera glasses playing an important part 
in the programme. At the end of the second 
act Arthur was to present himself, under pre- 
text of saluting the person in the box who 
was the promoter of this little scheme, and 
was recommended by him to display all the 
conversational ability of which he was master. 

He did not fail in this respect, although the 
appearance the young lady presented was not 
exactly calculated to transport him with en- 
thusiasm. She was a tall, awkward, lanky 
girl, just emancipated from the school-room, 
carelessly and unbecomingly dressed. Her 
red hands and thin arms were partially cov- 
ered with mittens, her hair, gathered in rum- 
pled masses in a chenille net, fell down on her 
back, upon a dress of white muslin, cut baby 
fashion, which gave her the appearance of 
having outgrown it, so short were the sleeves. 


64 


High Life. 


We repeat it, a raw school girl, bearing in ad 
dition a strange name, Aglae! Yes, but.... 

But with a dowry of two or three million 
francs !.... 

Eh! Oh! 

Without counting what her uncle the Vice- 
Admiral will leave her.... 

The devil !.... 

And, not less certainly, half her god -father’s 
property, a widower, without children, and 
only a few years between him and the grave..,. 

You are sure of all this ? 

Ah, well, it does not matter! With Arthur, 
she was only to be as a last resource, but a re- 
source not to be despised ! He had too clear a 
sense of justice to question this. 

With this purpose ki view, he unceasingly 
urged Inez to come to some definite decision. 

He did this, it must be confessed, with exqui- 
site delicacy, laying stress most strongly on 
the suffering she was undergoing. 

He set all this before her in glowing colors, 
laying himself out to make her understand 
how painful it was for him to leave her in the 
powe^ of a husband so unworthy of her. With 


High Life. 


65 


a heart, so completely devoted to her, it was 
beyond his strength to remain a passive spec- 
tator of such a sacrifice any longer. 

And then he, on his side, had scruples. He 
grew hot with shame, when compelled to ac- 
cept the Count’s outstretched hand, at the 
moment when he was coveting his most valued 
possession. His lips trembled to address him 
as his “dear friend” when in his heart he 
hated him. It was exquisite torture to him 
to make one of his party at the club, even 
when the Count raked in enormous winnings. 
In fact, it was simple martyrdom to have her 
husband looking him up, and constantly in- 
viting him to his home. 

An end must be put to all this ! Did she not 
herself see the necessity of it ? 

“Ah ! yes, indeed ! ” she replied . “The pain I 
experience myself, proves it only too plainly I 
How many times have my tears deluged the 
paper upon which I have written, imploring 
you to keep away, to leave me to my fate, to 
renounce our fatal affection, to forget me. Ah! 
no, Arthur. You will never know how my 
heart has been torn, with these conflicting 


66 


High Hike. 


doubts. Twenty times, I have had the cour- 
age, — Ah! My God! why cannot I say the 
word: the virtue? — to write you this eter- 
nal farewell. And in the end I thought of 3^ou, 
and my courage failed me. ‘ What will become 
of him I repeated to myself, disma3"ed. And 
any strength of will I possessed, vanished be- 
fore the picture of your sufferings, which my 
imagination conjured up.” 

It was at this point in their intimacy that 
he spoke to her of the marriage which had 
been suggested to him. 

^‘You! Arthur! marry some one else?”... 

^‘So to attain to the height of your virtue, 
Inez ; and in order to place an insurmountable 
barrier between us.” 

She perfectly understood his intentions, and 
knew he was capable of the sacrifice. To 
marry a person one does not love, out of de- 
spair, because the real object of their affection 
is beyond their reach, has always been con- 
sidered an act of pure heroism. It is the 
favorite plot in most works of imagination, 
and Inez possessed an extensive and varied 
stock of light literature. 


High Life. 


67 


To add to this, the name of the young per- 
son confirmed her in this opinion. She had 
met her, and concluded that, before a man like 
Arthur could resolve to marry a young girl, so 
badly dressed, awkward and childish, there 
must be some hidden reason for it. There 
must be a powerful sense of duty towards 
another, and a high sense of honor, to drive 
him to this act of self sacrifice. 

Her whole meaning was condensed in one 
word: 

‘‘Suicide!” 

So be it then, did she consent ? Or was it in- 
deed his bounden duty towards her ? 

Good God! how perplexed she was! Yet 
for all that, she could no longer trifle with 
him, and she understood intuitively, that the 
decisive moment had arrived, when she saw 
him enter her drawing room that evening. 

There was nothing in his general appear- 
ance which might keep her to this conclusion. 
He was in strictly regulation evening dress. 
Black coat, not a suspicion of jewelry, and his 
gloves held in the folds of his opera hat. 

Neither was there anything out of the com- 


68 


High Hife. 


mon to be gathered from the expression of his 
face, except that on observing the complete 
isolation of the Countess, an unequivocal look 
of satisfaction brightened his countenance. 

Going quickly up to her, as she held out hei 
hand, he said: 

Alone 

Hush ! replied she in a whisper, indicating 
the door leading into the conservatory. 

She wished to with draw her hand from his, 
but he reassured her with a glance, and in 
spite of her reluctance, carried it to his lips. 

am fortunate in finding you at home this 
evening,” said he, in a louder tone than was 
necessary. 

Upon which he seated himself on the end of 
the couch on which she reclined, at the risk of 
crushing her lace skirts, which almost hid him 
from view. 

What are you about? ” said she alarmed. 

But placing his fingers on his lips and tak- 
ing possession of her two hands, he pressed 
them forcibly against his heart. 

‘‘Listen,” said he, “the moment is solemn. 


High Life. 


69 


Since yesterday, with Anatole’s help, I have 
prepared everything for our flight/^ 

“Ah! merciful Heaven!’^ interrupted the 
Countess, with a look of serious distress. 

“ Let me explain ” 

“At least get up, if any one comes in ! 

But he was obstinate, and paying no at- 
tention to her remark, continued : 

“Presently, the Count, as he is in the habit 
of doing, will leave you to go and play bac- 
carat at the club, where he will remain until 
morning....” 

“Arthur, I fear I begin to see your meaning.” 
“As soon as he has turned the corner of the 
street, I will return for you A carriage will 
be in readiness to take us to the station. At 
five minutes to twelve the train leaves. To- 
morrow, when he rings for his valet, the Count 
will find that his tyranny over you is at an 
end, and we will be safely installed in some 
Swiss hotel, engaged in repairing the disorder 
in our toilettes, which such a long j ourney is apt 
to produce. Yes, I have thought of everything ; 
the smallest detail is of importance when it 
affects the comfort of those we love ; so do not 


70 


High Life. 


trouble to carry anything with you ; you will 
find all you need awaiting you there. 

Although Inez felt grateful, and appreciated 
his thoughtful care, her lovely face assumed an 
expression of superb haughtiness, and draw- 
ing her hands resolutely away, she rose. 

“You must be mad she replied. 

It took him some time to make her change 
her mind on this subject. But all his argu- 
ments were met with the same objection : 

“And the world ? ...the world ? ’’ 

So long and so persistently did she reiterate 
this, that after using all the persuasive elo- 
quence of which he was master, he said, with 
a touch of temper, that the opinion of the 
world counted nothing to him. 

But feeling he had gone too far, he enumer- 
ated to her the reasons which influenced him, 
and he did it well, for, having a good memory, 
he recited a number of speeches, culled from 
the latest novels of the day. 

Yet she did not swerve, and, although she 
looked so grand and willful in this mood, he 
lost patience at last, and took refuge in an at- 
titude of sad dignity. 


High Life. 


71 


‘‘Very well/^ said he, in a hollow voice. 
“Adieu, Madame....^’ 

This was so opposed to anything she had 
anticipated or foreseen, that the change in her 
countenance was impossible to describe; all 
the haughty indignation vanished, and in its 
stead reigned an expression of indefinable un- 
easiness. 

She presented at this moment a fit subject 
for the pen of a poet. 

“Adieu she repeated, as if she had not 
heard distinctly. “You would not leave me, 
abandon me, Arthur?” 

“I fly from you,” replied the young man ex- 
citedly, and with an almost savage accent. 
“ I fly from the abyss open before me. You will 
not understand that I am incapable of endur- 
ing this suspense any longer; that my love for 
you, and my anger against him who stands 
between us, is exasperated to the last degree, 
and that I will be driven to commit some im- 
prudence, perhaps worse ; may bring upon him 
whose name I hate to utter, some serious dis- 
aster. And since there is yet time, and in spite 
of your intellectual superiority, of the s^ti- 


72 


High Life. 


ments you pretend to regard me with, you can- 
not overcome the prejudices of the class you 
belong to, and prefer remaining the slave of a 
society which. ...of a society which....” (here he 
repeated some fragments which lingered in his 
memory). Ah, well, I say again, I must tear 
myself away from a danger which is weaken- 
ing me, which is driving me mad, as you say, 
and will end by making me do something des- 
perate.... Once more. Countess, adieu!” 

This word adieu,” having made some im- 
pression the first time, he repeated it, adding 
to its effect, by taking a step towards the 
door. 

Inez seized him b}" the hand. 

“Where are 3^ou going?” asked she, with a 
sort of bewildered look, not unmingled with 
authorit3^ 

“To the Vice Admiral’s ball,” replied Arthur 
in a feverish tone. 

“This evening? ” 

“Yes, this evening, and without a moment’s 
delay,” added he, without glancing in her 
direction, fearing some display of weakness 
on^his own part. 


High Life. 


73 


‘‘Ah! my God!^’ gasped the Countess, sink- 
ing back on the couch, and exerting all the 
self-control, of which she was capable, to pre- 
vent her tears from falling on the powder 
with which her lovely face was plentifully 
covered, 

“I repeat it,’’ cried Arthur, approaching her 
again, “the moment is a solemn one. If you 
refuse to fly with me, I will immediately pre- 
sent myself there, and I give you my word 
of honor, marry Aglae, careless of the conse- 
quences, the responsibility of which rests 
with you. Countess ; that is the responsibility 
of sacrificing my life, of causing this suicide — I 
use your own words — ‘This suicide of my 
soul.’ ” 

The repetition of this last phrase, was ac- 
complished by an aspect of such funereal 
gloom, that Manfred, Rolla, and othertypes ol 
the melancholy hero, sank into utter insignifi- 
cance. 

Inez was visibly affected by this appeal, but 
before she could answer — perhaps own her de- 
feat, who knows! — a sound of approaching 


74 


High Life. 


voices forced them to assume the appearance 
of ordinary acquaintances. 

‘‘Ah!” said the Count d’Aldaia, coming 
forward and offering his hand to Arthur, “you 
here, my dear fellow. How are you ? ” 

Arthur, feeling excessively uncomfortable, re- 
plied : 

“How are you?” 

So that neither of the two, arrived at a 
very definite conclusion as to the state of the 
other’s health. 

The remainder of the guests followed. They 
came to take leave of the Countess. 

In paying his respects, Arthur said to her in 
a low voice : 

“I will go with them; but on the first op- 
portunity, I will leave, and shall return to get 
your final decision.” 

She looked at him in a supplicating manner, 
as if asking for a respite. He was inflexible. 

“Your final decision!” replied he, clinching 
his teeth. 

She saw him disappear, arm in arm with her 
husband, and in a state of overwhelming anx- 
iety, she pressed her hands to her head, even 


High Life. 


75 


at the risk of disarranging her hair; then with 
an altered voice, she asked herself: 

‘‘ What am I to do ? 


CHAPTER III. 


THE COUNT d’ALDAIA UNEXPECTEDLY APPEARS. 

Believing herself alone, Inez gave herself up 
to serious reflection, when suddenly a friendly 
hand was laid on her shoulder. She turned 
quickly round, and found herself confronting 
the Baroness dTosk. 

‘^My dear,’^ said her friend, ^‘I have sent the 
Baron for a cab ; one of my brown baj^s has 
had his knees broken through the carelessness 
of the coachman, and if 3^ou don’t object, I 
should like a little friendly talk, during his ab- 
sence.” 

When one woman proposes to have a 
friendly talk with another, even the most un- 
suspecting will try to be as much on her 
guard as possible. 

The Countess instinctivel3" felt that she must 


High Life. 


77 


exercise caution during the impending inter- 
view. 

“Well, my dear, what have you to say?'^ 
replied she, carefully on the defensive. 

The Baroness, after indulging in a few 
more honied phrases, came to the point. 

“Do you know what people are saying?^’ 
she remarked. 

And without waiting for an answer, she 
added : 

“They say the Count is ruined.’’ 

“Excuse me,” said Inez. 

“Let my friendship for you speak, my tender 
friendship,” resumed the Baroness. “I am tell- 
ing you this simply for your own sake; for you 
know how I love you! Well, my poor, dear 
friend, not only is he ruined, but he is also 
deeply in debt ; and there is a report that they 
are going to prosecute him, and that this 
house, with all it contains, must be sold ; and 
owing to his position as a foreigner, that he is 
in danger of being arrested.” 

Inez had turned pale. 

The Baroness noticed it, and following up 
this first advantage, charitably gave th^ 


78 


High Life. 


finishing stroke by leaning forward and whis- 
pering close to her ear : 

^‘He is reduced to all sorts of expedients: 
Such as trusting to some lucky coup at bacca- 
rat!.../’ 

Then supposing, not without reason, that 
she had made herself sufficiently disagreeable 
to her “dear friend,” she took up a position 
directly facing her, so as to have a full view 
of the effect produced. 

“Are you sure of this?” murmured the 
Countess. 

“ How I sure? Alas ! unfortunately too sure 1 
He plays all night.” 

“And does he never win?” asked the Coun- 
tess half aloud, in spite of herself, and seeming 
to implore some little consolation. 

“Win? Oh! my poor darling, how can he 
win, with a thousand fears in his heart? It 
takes a man with pluck to win. The Count 
is afraid; he is timid, hesitating, and when he 
does have a run of luck, has not the nerve to 
follow it up.” 

During these last remarks, couched in the 


High Life. 


79 


most orthodox cant of the club-room, Inez had 
regained her self-possession. 

Don’t alarm yourself, my dear,” said she 
assuming an air of superior knowledge. “ Mat- 
ters have not gone quite so far. You know 
whether the Count has anything to hide from 
me ; so I am happy to be able to re-assure you, 
if only to prove how deepl3" I feel — and that is 
sa3dng very little! — all 3"Our affectionate and 
loving solicitude on m3" account.” 

She took her friend’s hand, and pressed it 
warmly. 

‘‘I am touched to the innermost recesses of 
my soul,” added the Countess. ” Rejoice with 
me, kind friend: the danger was only a 
threatened one, fortunately! At the most, a 
short delay, entailing no serious consequences. 
This is the truth, but it must be between 
ourselves.” 

‘‘Good gracious! dearest, do I require to be 
warned? ” 

“The truth is this: some infiltrations were 
discovered in the mine. They neglected to 
take proper precautions at the beginning, so 
some of the galleries are flooded. But the 


80 


High Life. 


Count has telegraphed his orders. Already 
the water pumps are working and, very 
shortly, all will be in working order.^^ 

‘‘Who told you all this ? asked the Baron- 
ess. 

“My husband.” 

As a usual thing, she was careful to avoid 
the use of these words “my husband,” which 
in her opinion, savoured too much of the infer- 
ior classes. But in this particular instance, 
she felt they would give additional weight to 
her confidence. 

To her great surprise, her “dear friend” 
manifested no signs of relief. On the contrary, 
the excellent woman turned away her eyes and 
lowered her head, as if overwhelmed. 

“What is the matter? ” exclaimed Inez. 

“Ah! gracious Heavens! my poor friend,” 
cried the Baroness, as if carried away by her 
feelings of affection, “my heart aches to hear 
you speak in this way, and it is as much as I 
can do, to restrain m\" tears.” 

“What do you wish to say? Would vou 
doubt?....” 

“That the Count told you this? Certainl3^ 


High Life. 


81 


not. But what distresses me, is to see a 
charming woman like you, as a rule so clear- 
sighted and discerning, place any faith in such 
a story. 

The Countess was conscious of a choking 
sensation in her throat, akin to real alarm; 
for she did in fact firmly believe in the flooded 
mine. 

“The infiltrations’^ resumed the Baroness, 
with redoubled interest, “my poor darling.... 
A romance ! And the truth, as you say, the un- 
happy truth is, that there is a revolt at the 
mine. The Count’s manager is at the head of 
the strike, and almost all those who wished to 
remain faithful to the legitimate possessor, 
have been massacred. The rest have taken 
flight, and the rebels are in possession of the 
mine, and working it for their own profit 
alone. There it is, the unhappy truth, my 
dear!” 

The unfortunate Inez could think of no re- 
tort, and the Baroness continued, with tears 
in her voice : 

“Ah! well all this would count for nothing. 
If! ” 


6 


82 


High Lifb. 


‘‘Many thanks’’ said the Countess, as if in 
spite of herself. 

“Nothing, my dear! For do you know 
what they add, what they have the infamy to 
add ? They say that if the Count has delayed 
to go and bring these rebels to order, — and it 
is acknowledged that his mere appearance 
would make the most insolent tremble! — it 
is that he has lost all his energy, all interest in 
life.” 

^ ‘ And why ? But why then ? ’ ’ 

“Why? Ah! that is almost too delicate 
a subject. Countess ! 

“Delicate? ’’ 

'“You are sure you will not be offend d with 
me?” 

“ Certainly not.” 

“Quite sure? ” 

“I give you my word of honor. Baroness; 
but, in the name of heaven, speak ; this sus- 
pense is killing me ! ” 

“ Ah ! ” said the other, “ If it was not that I 
love you !....” 

“ For pity’s sake continue ! ” 

“Very well, darling, if the Count is not 


High Life. 


83 


there, if he is unworthy of himself, of his past, 
lost to all feelings of ambition, and of what is 
due to you, it is that grief devours and para- 
lyses him.’^ 

“ Grief! What grief? ’’ 

“Jealousy! 

“He jealous? Ofwhom?’^ 

“Of the Prince! 

“Swenska? That ridiculous caricature! 
How absurd! ” 

‘ ‘ Ah ! ’ ^ exclaimed the Baroness triumphantly, 
“that is exactly what I said to those who 
thought themselves so well informed/^ 

“ Indeed !^^ said Inez, a little anxious and 
wounded. “You thought it your duty ?....*^ 
“To listen to any accusation against you? 
I never would forgive myself. ‘ It is absurd I ^ 
said I. If the Count was jealous of Monsieur 
de Fandansec, well and good! There might 
be some reason in that perhaps ; but jealous of 
the Prince ! It is the height of absurdity ! 

“Indeed,** said the Countess stiffly, “I am 
under great obligations to you ! ** 

This was said in a tone which threatened a 
storm ; it was one of those amiable conversa- 


84 


High Life. 


tions, bristling with feminine darts, the cru- 
elty of which has always appeared to be the 
exclusive property of the gentler sex. 

Already, on both sides, they had begun to 
sharpen their tongues, when the Baron, sud- 
denly putting in an appearance, broke up this 
war of words, compelling both parties to call 
a truce, as to continue before one of the 
inferior sex, would be in fra dig. Besides be- 
ing imprudent. 

He came to look for his wife, and in addi- 
tion, they had no time to lose. 

They parted, with a hundred polite phrases 
on both sides, pressing each other’s hands, and 
even, because they dared not bite, embraced 
each other. 

Then the Countess, for the time being, put 
aside the rage, towards her “dear friend,” that 
was consuming her, and tried to face the true 
state of affairs, feeling that at all costs, she 
must take the decisive step and that without 
delay! 

She could no longer have any doubt of the 
Count’s ruin. This tradesman, who had been 
so insolent, was not the first or only creditor^ 


High Life. 


85 


who had left the house with loud sounding 
threats. For some weeks past she had heard 
of several scenes of the same description, and 
the servants were becoming careless in the dis- 
charge of their duties, and less respectful in 
their general bearing. A very bad sign ! 

How find a remedy for this state of affairs ? 
What could she count upon ? 

A coup at baccarat might happen with- 
out doubt, but that would not do much to- 
wards remedying matters. It would scarcely 
do more than meet the demands of a few credi- 
tors; and in all likelihood, the losses of the 
following night, would swallow up the gains 
of the preceding one. 

No! There was nothing to hope for from 
that quarter. 

The Baroness had spoken of another means, 
the arrival of the Count at the mine. 

But could he certainly count on success 
there? Would it be in his power to reduce 
those rebels to order? 

Inez felt she could not count upon that. He 
was so changed now, he who had been known 
formerly as the “Terror of the Pampas^’ 


86 


High Life. 


One glance from him had been sufficient to 
quell the spirit of the bravest. In those days, 
also, he could trust to the strength of his her- 
culean arm, which combined with the activity 
of his vigorous frame, served him in many an 
hour of need. But now he was the mere 
shadow of his former self. 

Suppose they only laughed at him over 
there ? 

As for trusting for redress to the laws of the 
country, she judged correctly that it would be 
useless. In the towns one might obtain a 
hearing, although more than once it had hap- 
pened that the judge had been assassinated in 
open court, and the pleading counsel, finding 
their case hopeless, fired their revolvers at the 
magistrates, to prevent them passing sentence. 
A favorite means of obtaining a reprieve by 
brute force. But on the pampas, in the deep 
recesses of these high mountains, in these 
wilds where regular soldiers have never pene- 
trated, how could one hope to reclaim their 
rights ? 

And then, to defend your cause, is ver3^ fine 
no doubt, when one has a talent in that direc- 


High Life. 


87 


tion, plenty of money to lay down in advance, 
and papers properly drawn out ; yet even this 
does not always prevent the possibility of a 
loss. 

Had the Count any particular talent for chi- 
canery? But little. Formerly, his habit had 
been to cut short all cavilling, by ordering the 
grumblers to be hanged. As for money, he had 
none. Lastly, as to titles of property, he ac- 
quired that as he did his public position: by 
presumption, yes; public notoriety to as great 
an extent as possible; but papers, reliable 
papers, properly signed, sealed and registered, 
not one existed ! 

In short, he had been in a way the discoverer 
of this mine : that is, happening to be in that 
part of the country, he encountered people, 
who were employed in someway there. When 
he discovered the nature of their work, he 
made a polite proposition to the effect, that 
they should yield up the greater part of the 
products to him, upon which the others, be- 
traying natural indignation and becoming 
angry, he, with the other bandits who com- 
posed his troop, fell upon, shot, stabbed them, 


88 


High Life. 


and finally, after burjdng the dead, took pos- 
session of everything. 

It is said, that in olden times in Europe, 
where such respect is paid to the laws of the 
present day, propert^^ and the privileges ap- 
pertaining thereto, had the same origin. I 
recognize this fact without effort, having read 
not a little history; but these plunderings, and 
murders, had the sanction of the times, and al- 
so that of Holy Mother Church, who received 
her due share. Even the poets did not with- 
hold their approval, and sounded their praises, 
in glowing verse, declaring them heroic. 

But over there, it was quite another matter. 
The institutions are only of yesterday; and 
what church do these miscreants belong to, 
who have but recently abandoned the playful 
habit of having cold missionary for supper, 
and above all, where are their poets ? 

There is no possible comparison, and Inez, 
had the grevious conviction forced upon her, 
that the Count was irretrievably ruined. 

In this case, would it not be wisdom on her 
part, to seriously consider M. de Fandansec’s 
proposition ? 


High Life. 


89 


It seemed so to her, and she determined to 
go with him. 

One fact held her in anxious doubt : Arthur 
loved her, it is true, but to what extent? This 
was the doubt which troubled her just now. 

That he loved her, she believed, but, so had 
a good many others ; even this Prince Swenska 
had spoken of divorce and marriage, if his de- 
pendent position on the Emperor of all the 
Russians had not interfered with his liberty of 
action. But Arthur, could she count upon his 
love, as being strong enough to stand the test 
of waiting, until the necessary time for the ac- 
complishment of all the formalities of naturali- 
zation should have passed ? She had his word, 
it is true. The word of a man of honor, which 
counts for much, she granted that; neverthe- 
less, an engagement entered into distinctly 
and formally, was not to be disdained. 

She thought so at least, but would have 
wished for some solid guarantee; in a word, 
to have some hold on him, that was all ! 

Yet, a lady, and of her rank, could she exact 
anything like a forfeit, should he break his 
promise? It was a difficult question to de- 


90 


High Life. 


cide. What could she do ? She went through 
every species of mental torture, trying vainly 
to discover some way out of this dilemma, and 
a way which would avoid wounding a thou- 
sand susceptibilities. 

At such times, it often happens, that failing 
to discover any expedient, pleasing on all 
points, one rejects everything which is only 
half satisfactory, and trusting to the inspira- 
tion of the moment says : 

will trust to my luck !....” which is evi- 
dently adopting a very free mode of speech, 
but characteristic and conclusive. 

The Countess had arrived at just such a 
state of feeling, when the footman, not with- 
out a malicious air of enjo3mient, announced: 

^‘Monsieur de Fandansec.” 

In the presence of her servant, Inez pre- 
tended astonishment. 

“You!’’ she exclaimed, as if his visit had been 
altogether unexpected. “What can have 
happened ? Have you forgotten anything ? ” 

But as soon as the footman had disap- 
peared, she adopted a very different manner, 


High Life. 


91 


and, coming deliberately np to Arthur, she 
took his hand and placed herself before him. 

You do love me,” said she, in a vibrating 
voice. “You wish me to go away with you ; 
that is to say, you ask of my affection the 
greatest sacrifice that a pure-minded woman, 
a Christian, and one occup3fing a high position 
in society can make: the sacrifice of my 
duty ! ” 

“Well! ” replied Arthur, slightly non-plussed 
at this unexpected beginning. 

“And,” continued the Countess, “you hope 
that I will fly with you, who, without any 
other thought — ah, remember! — promise to 
obtain a divorce for me in the most orthodox 
manner.” 

“I swear it,” cried the young man, holding 
up his hand. 

The Countess fixed her eyes on him with a 
questioning gaze, and then, after a solemn 
silence : 

“I consent!” said she. “Let us fly to- 
gether; I am ready.” 

“Ah! Countess! Countess!” exclaimed 
Arthur, in a delirium of joy, interrupting her. 


92 


High Life. 


Inez was satisfied ; but, wishing to put him 
still further to the test, she resumed : 

“One moment! I would not deceive you by 
leaving 3^ou in ignorance of what may be the 
consequence of this act. There must be no con- 
cealment between us ; no room for the smallest 
doubt, so that no shadow of regret may ever 
come between us and our love. Listen, then, 
to what I have to say.’’ 

“Willingly,” replied the 3^oung man, draw- 
ing out his watch. “Yet....” 

The Countess was, beyond doubt, too 
much absorbed in her own thoughts to ob- 
serve this movement on Arthur’s part, for, 
without awaiting the conclusion of his sen- 
tence, she began: 

“I was fifteen 3-ears old, innocent and 
without any worldh- ambitions. M3- life 
passed tranquilly with my parents in 
their Bayou. There were times, I will not 
deny it, when the vast expanse of the heavens, 
the precipitous course of the Rio, the mutter- 
ings of the thunder, reverberating solemnly 
among the solitudes of our mountain fast- 
nesses, of which the crests, crowned with eter- 


High Life. 


93 


nal snows, shot boldly upwards, losing them- 
selves in the clouds, have made my pulses tin- 
gle, and quickened the beating of my young 
heart. Nevertheless, I repeat it, innocent and 
devoid of ambition, I dreamed in onlj^a vague 
manner of extending my sphere of life. 

“ One day a young man presented himself at 
our home, the paternal Bayou. He was tall, 
haughty looking, superb, with a look of com- 
mand in his eyes. His hair, overshadowing 
his broad forehead, seemed like the mane of 
an enraged lion. Such was the Count ! 

“ Sometimes, in my rides on the pampas, I 
had obtained glimpses of him, and, without 
suspecting it, had evidently made an impres- 
sion, for he came with the express purpose of 
asking my hand in marriage from my father. 
“He refused. Why? you will ask....’^ 

“No,’^ said Arthur, taking out his watch 
again. “I must remind you. Countess, that 
it is late, and we must be at the railway sta- 
tion before midnight. Also, as we will have 
eighteen good hours to pass on the train, you 
will have uninterrupted leisure to conclude this 


94 


High Life. 


narration, which will lose, perhaps, by being 
hurriedly told.” 

“No,” said Inez, in her turn. “It is a mat- 
ter of conscience with me, that you should 
hear all before. I continue....” 

“ Come,” thought the young man, “there is 
no use trying, she must have her own wa3^ !” 

“Well,” pursued the Countess, “my father 
refused; but with infinite courtesy and polite- 
ness, as you may imagine. In the first place, 
civility was natural to him, and then prudence 
dictated it. He knew the reputation of the 
Count, and understood that to thwart him 
was to risk bringing disagreeable consequences 
in its train. 

“It was so, alas! as you will hear. 

“Upon his request being thus refused, the 
Count made no remark, betraying neither dis- 
appointment nor annoyance, and when the in- 
terview was ended, got up, bowed gracefully 
to the ladies of the family, and withdrew 
slowly, smiling in a manner which left a disa- 
greeable impression. 

“ Oh ! Arthur, what a smile ! If you had seen 
it on his lips, perhaps you would never have 


High Life. 


95 


dared to entertain those sentiments in your 
heart, which have placed us in this delicate 
position.’’ 

Arthur chafed indignantly at this remark. 
Did she suppose he was afraid, afraid of a 
smile ? 

The Countess divined his thoughts, for, 
interrupting him in advance : 

“Pardon me, Arthur,” said she, “It was a 
womanly fear, the natural doubts of a depen- 
dent, nervous woman. I ought not to have 
said it.” 

“ Meanwhile, my father was anything but 
re-assured, and at night he took more than or- 
dinary precautions to secure everything inside 
our dwelling, and arming his slaves, he organ- 
ized outposts and pickets. 

“Vain precautions, ’’continued the Countess. 
“That night there was to be a catastrophe. 
Oh, that night!” she almost moaned, placing 
one hand on Arthur’s arm with an almost lov- 
ing pressure. “I can see it all again. Know- 
ing what was taking place, I did not go to 
bed. Leaning against the window, I tried to 
accustom my eyes to the fast disappearing 


96 


High Life. 


daylight, to penetrate the deepening darkness, 
which to me was full of mysterious danger, 
and listening intently, forced myself to notice 
the slightest movement. 

‘‘Nothing more than ordinary happened, 
however : the hissing of a serpent, the distant 
bellowing of the buffalo, the plaintive crying 
of some crocodile, hidden under the impenetra- 
ble brush of an Ananas forest, confused mur- 
murs, which generally soothed me to sleep, were 
all I heard. Why, then, did I feel anxious 
and oppressed ? What presentiment of coming 
evil was it that froze my veins with terror ? 

“The one thing that enabled me to hope, was 
the absence of moonlight. I concluded that 
on such a dark night they would make no at- 
tempt to attack us. This was also the opinion 
of my father, and I tried to sustain myself with 
this hope, in oi f.er to subdue the terrible ap- 
prehension which wrung my heart. 

“Suddenly — indescribable terror! — a sinis- 
ter light reddened the clouds ; a light crossed 
with furrows — furrows of black smoke! The 
plain was illumined by the red glare of the in- 
creasing flames, and shadows wandered here 


High Life. 


97 


and there in an uncertain manner. It was a 
young forest that they had set on fire. A Cyclo- 
pean torch, worthy of lighting the theatre of 
an unheard of crime ! 

Very soon the sound of firearms was heard ; 
a struggle was taking place at the enclosure of 
the Bayou, The gates were burst open, our 
faithful slaves strewn on the trampled grass, 
to the joy of myriads of hideous insects, who, 
unconscious vehicles of universal circulation, 
rendered to the great current of life the shreds 
of decaying bodies, which, later on, they would 
dispute with the vultures. We were losing 
ground before the overpowering number of the 
invaders, and the house was besieged on all 
sides, doors were driven in, windows smashed, 
and intermingled with the din were heard 
oaths and hideous curses ! 

It was too much ! I fainted, unable to offer 
the slightest resistance. And what else could 
be expected from a delicately nurtured 3^oung 
girl? 

On recovering from my stupor, I found my- 
self on horseback with the Count, who sup- 
ported me with his arm* while urging his steed 


98 


High Life. 


to a full galop. The instinct of self-preserva- 
tion caused me to cling to his shoulders, and 
we fled along like the wind. 

‘‘The new forest continued to blaze and sav- 
age howls were heard to proceed from it. The 
deer and serpents, surprised by the fire, fought 
together in their fury to escape from the entan- 
glement of the scorching plants, producing a 
Dantesque concert, accompanied b}- rumblings 
like the deep wailings of a church organ, caused 
by the quickened tread of the terrified herds, 
fleeing from their impending doom. 

“This mad race lasted a long time, when at 
last — bitter and derisive contrast — the dawn 
of approaching day began to tinge the mour- 
tain tops with a rosy glow. 

“Half way down a valley, carpeted with 
wild flowers, I perceived a sort of roof, sur- 
mounted by a cross, and I felt there would end 
our mad flight. 

“Indeed, at ten steps from this hermitage — 
for such it was; I had divined only too cor- 
rectly —the tinted retreat ofa pious monk, the 
Count stopped his tired horse. We were alone, 
for the course of his racer had been so rapid, 


High Life. 


99 


that the bandits, whom he had ordered to fol- 
low, had not been able to keep up with us. 

‘‘While waiting for them, he allowed me to 
slip down to the ground, then descending in 
his turn, he knelt at my feet. 

“‘Ah!^ said he with the utmost gentleness, 
which was very far from what I anticipated, 
‘ if my conduct seems devoid of those formali- 
ties which citizens believe indispensible, I pray 
you to attribute it to the violence of a pas- 
sion which nothing can moderate.^ 

“Although his compliments were flattering, 
I could not give him my undivided attention, 
so anxious and disturbed was I, on account of 
the fate reserved for my parents. 

“But he, divining the cause of my pre-occu- 
pation said in a tone of sincere regret : 

“ ‘Why did they compel me to such a desper- 
ate act, which my love for you alone can ex- 
cuse? However, have no fear, they are alive. ^ 
“I could not restrain a sigh of relief. 

“‘They are alive,’ he repeated, ‘and care- 
fully strapped down to their beds, until a mes- 
senger can arrive with the news that a sacred 
tie unites us, when the revered progenitors of 


100 


High Life. 


your being will beoncemore placed at liberty.’ 

‘For, — at least I may hope so — ’ added the 
Count, proudly, ‘ you cannot for one moment 
have harboured a doubt that I could be the 
means of causing a blush of shame to stain 
your virginal brow ? Re-assure yourself. The 
Count d’Aldaia is a man of the world, im- 
bued with principles of honor and loyalty, a 
code with which he has always been familiar. 
This is a marriage, a real marriage ; blessed by 
a minister of Heaven, which will bind me, in 
this life and the next, to your service; and 
makes me your respectful adorer, your humble 
and devoted slave.’ 

“Well I own it, Arthur?” continued the 
Countess, “I was touched by this avowal; but 
from natural modesty and a sense of decorum, 
I concealed my feelings and maintained a did- 
nified silence, — which he told me later— did 
not fail to impress him. 

“When his two lieutenants rejoined us, they 
had undoubtedly received all their orders be- 
forehand; for without taking time to draw 
breath, one of the two advanced rapidly in the 
direction of the hermitage, and kicked open 


High Life. 


101 


the door with such force as to shake the whole 
edifice. 

“The good monk appeared instantly. 

“ He was as thin as a lath, as weak as a vine 
prop, and as ^^ellow as an ear of maize, but 
with a look of veneration in spite of his worn 
garments and neglected appearance. 

“He was, I have since discovered a learned 
man, who had the sacred text at the tips of 
his fingers. A protestant by religion, convic- 
tion, and temperament, even to the length of 
protesting against protestantism, he had, if 
not exactly invented, at least discovered a new 
religion, which promised nothing less than 
universal happiness, and which he had 
the contrariety to preach in the desert; 
as in the towns, when he dared to open his 
lips, his brother clergj^men, as was right 
in their eyes, raised a mob sufficient to tear 
him to pieces. 

“The moment he appeared on the threshold 
of his cabin, the two bandits pointed their pis- 
tols at his breast, and the Count said to him 
with the most marked deference: 

“‘My father, you have received a mission 


102 


High Life. 


from on High to bind and unbind here below, 
and you will lay me under an obligation, if you 
will unite us, this young girl and myself, in the 
holy bonds of matrimony.’ 

‘I know it is taking you unawares, and that 
under such circumstances it is unusual to pub- 
lish the bans, but as not a soul breathes in 
these grand solitudes, we may dispense with 
these formalities all the more, as with a negli- 
gence I now reproach myself for, we have 
omitted to provide ourselves with the neces- 
sary papers, and I wishj^ou to pronounce your 
blessing on our union, without delay. The 
presence of our two friends, as witnesses, will 
be a sufficient guarantee for the legality of the 
proceeding.’ 

“The revolvers were powerful aids in bring- 
ing the monk to a rapid decision, and, almost 
dead with terror, he replied in one word : 

“‘Come!’.... 

“It was quickly done, for the good father, in 
his character of a reformer, had simplified the 
rites, and when he said : ‘ In the name of God 
I pronounce 3^ou man and wife!’ he sank tin- 


High Life. 


103 


conscious and breathless on the steps of the 
altar. 

‘‘The Count threw him a handful of gold; 
misplaced prodigality in a country where there 
was nothing to buy, for the very good reason 
that no one had thought of bringing things 
there to sell. Then my husband, taking me by 
the hand, remounted me on his horse, and we 
disappeared at full galop. 

“It was over; I was his wife, the Countess 
Inez d’Aldaia.” 

“Why the devil is she telling me all this,” 
said Arthur, mentally, who felt anxious as the 
hours passed rapidl^^ by. 

He ceased asking himself, when the Countess, 
rising and taking his arm, said : 

“This is the sort of man, Arthur, whom you 
wish to rob of his most valuable possession. 
Ah ! well, tell me, if tomorrow or later, when 
this man discovers our flight, and discovering 
our hiding place, he appears before us, threat- 
ening and terrible, tell me, I beg of you, what 
would you do ?” 

Our young hero had not waited until then 
before thinking of this. Although placing un- 


104 


High Life. 


questioning belief in the recital of' his fair 
friend, he thought that whatever might have 
taken place in that distant country, where also 
the heat of the sun’s raise must have a ten- 
dency to over -excite the brain, it was always 
safe to allow for a little exaggeration. He 
thought also, that accepting everything in a 
literal sense, were it only from politeness, af- 
fairs could not be conducted in exactly the 
same manner here. European laws would 
scarcely countenance such violent proceedings, 
and in case of the Count suddenly recovering 
his wild impetuosity of former times, and 
coming between Inez and her newly found pro- 
tector, there were soldiers to interfere, and the 
neighbors would quickly come to the rescue. 
Then, where was the forest to set on fire ? A 
difficult matter; and, besides, an expensive 
amusement. 

No ; all the risk could be summed up in one 
word, what is understood by well-bred people 
as an ‘‘affair” — a duel. We know what that 
means in the present day, a thrust of the 
sword on one side — a scratch! — followed by 
a verbal process, and a notice in the papers. 


High Life. 


105 


Was this going to intimidate a Pandansec? 
Far from it! It was just what was wanting 
to establish his success as a fashionable man 
of the world, and he was not sorry to have the 
opportunity of giving the finishing touch to 
his otherwise enviable reputation. An elope- 
ment, that always counted for something, as- 
suredly ; but if followed by a duel ! His mouth 
watered at the mere prospect. 

So in answer to Inez, he experienced a feeling 
almost sublime in its daring. 

“You ask me this,” he cried. 

The Countess was charmed with the attitude 
he adopted. Yet, wishing for something more 
certain, she was going to insist, when the noise 
of the carriage gate closing was heard in the 
silence of the night. 

Inez stopped short, and her lovely face ex- 
pressed a feeling of helpless terror. 

“Listen,” she said, in a tone of feverish anx- 
iety. 

Very soon they heard the sound of a manly 
footstep in the outer hall. 

She lifted the window curtain, and with- 
drawing herself quickly : 


106 


High Life. 


is he” she said. ^‘He suspects us. We 
are lost.” 

Apart from laughing, there is nothing so 
contagious as fear, and Arthur became livid. 

‘‘A pistol,” he stammered out. 

But Inez shrugged her shoulders and rais- 
ing the seat of the sofa, discovered a cavity, 
which offered a means of concealment. 

** There” said she. 

Arthur recoiled from the prospect. His 
self-esteem was deeply wounded. 

“Hide myself” he exclaimed with disdain. 
“ For what do you take me? ” 

Disma3"ed, but really imposing, the Countess 
drew near to him : 

“And my reputation ? ” said she to him, in a 
tone full of authority. “If you are a man, you 
cannot hesitate, you dare not hesitate! ” 

He looked upon himself as the perfection of 
gallantry, but still he hesitated. 

She conquered him with a word. 

“I love you!” 

At this avowal the young man’s objections 
melted into thin air. 

Overcoming his anno3^ance and mortifica- 


High Life. 


107 


tlon, lie slipped quickly into tke recess, throw- 
ing towards her a kiss full of passionate ar- 
dour. 

The cover fell down upon Arthur. 

It was time! A second later, and the Count, 
lifting the hangings, appeared cold and severe 
as a judge. 

He threw a rapid glance around, and seemed 
rather put out of countenance. Assuredly he 
had not anticipated finding his wife alone. 
Making use of the first excuse which offered it- 
self to him — his powers of imagination were 
not brilliant; one cannot possess every gift! — 
he said : 

‘‘You are surprised to see me, my love? I for- 
got my handkerchief.” 

Inez had some troible in concealing her 
emotion, and the natural effect of emotion is 
benumbing to the faculties. So without 
offering a remark, she nervously and quickly 
handed him her own. 

The Count, unaccustomed to such attention, 
recovered himself, and remarking the agita- 
tion of his wife: 

“How your hand trembles,” he said. 


108 


High Life. 


Danger seemed to exercise a galvanic effect 
■upon the Countess. Instead of taking refuge 
in some trifling excuse, she out of mere bra- 
vado, seemed to invite a storm. 

‘‘There is reason enough certainly,” she re- 
plied, without knowing exactly what she in- 
tended to add. 

“ What is the matter ? ” 

Upon which, working herself up into a pre- 
tended state of excitement : 

“There is this:” she replied, “that your 
habit of leaving me night after night alone, 
naturally conveys the impression that you are 
tired of me ; that you abandon me, and leave 
the field clear for any who would try to con- 
sole me. That is what is the matter ! ” 

A light flashed in the old freebooter’s eyes. 

“And who would dare?” said he, stopping 
suddenly, as if struck speechless at the bare 
idea that any could have the audacity to 
raise his eyes to Inez. 

“Yes!” she said. “It becomes you to adopt 
such a tone. After all, is it not your own 
fault ? What strange mania possesses you, to 
surround me with young men, whose first 


High Life. 


109 


thought is to win favors from women more or 
less abandoned ? Not a week passes that you 
do not introduce some fresh acquaintance with 
whom I have nothing in common, and who 
weary me with languishing looks to com- 
mence with. 

‘‘Blood and thunder!’^ yelled the Count; 
“they dared to go so far?’’ 

“ Perhaps they wait for your permission !” 

“ Come, you are surely joking, Countess ?” 

“Joking! Oh, you husbands, you are all the 
same; all and always the same!” 

“I do not agree with you.” 

“You are more fortunate than others, my 
dear Count! ” 

“ One name? I defy you to give me one name, 
Inez.” 

“You really wish it ?” 

“ Come! you are amusing yourself at my ex- 
pense, and to keep me from the club. I know 
these women’s wiles.” 

“Ah! well, so much the worse!” cried the 
Countess, exasperated and humiliated by the 
apparent incredulity of the Count. “If you 
insist on having a name, I shall give you one. 


110 


High Life. 


I choose it, by chance, from among the 
crowd.’’ 

‘‘Tell me, if only to prove....” 

Inez, piqued beyond endurance, forgot all 
prudence. 

“And if I say Monsieur de Fandansec?” said 
she, with a triumphant air. 

“Arthur?” replied the Count, with a good- 
natured smile. “ You have chosen badly, my 
dear. It was he who took me to the club, and 
I wager he has made his haul upon ‘ the last 
nineteen’ at the ‘Bouillotte;’ for he plays 
like the devil.”' 

“ Poor man ! ” said Inez, shrugging her shoui- 
ders. “He accompanied you there. Yes! but 
instead of making his ‘haul’ on ‘the last nine 
teen’ at the ‘Bouillotte,’ he gave you the slip, 
and seeing that I was left to the solitude of my 
own thoughts, my regrets and the humiliation 
of finding myself neglected, he came back.” 

“Here?” 

“Here!” 

“For what purpose?” 

“To tell me of his love! ” 


High Life. 


Ill 


‘‘Arthur? Never! You are inYenting, my 
dear!” 

“So little” said she, feeling obstinate, know- 
ing she was right ....“that he has actually 
proposed that I should run away with him.” 

“ You are speaking the truth. Countess?” 

“ On my honor.” 

The Count, thoroughly convinced, rushed 
for his hat, anxious to get out. 

“ Ah ! good heavens ! ” said Inez, “where are 
you going in such haste?” 

“To find him.” 

“Where?” 

“ At the club.” 

“Who told you he would be there?” 

The Count seemed rooted to the spot. 
What did she mean? What game was she 
playing? He felt confused, speechless, stupid 
before this woman, who with her free and easy 
manner, bantered him so unmercifully. 

In fact at this moment she had mastered 
him. He was at her mercy, and she played 
with him as a cat does with a mouse. 

“And where would he be, then?” asked the 


112 


High Life. 


Count, in a dejected tone; ‘'in our house, per- 
haps?....’^ 

“Exactly.’’ 

“ In this very room ?” 

“You burn!” 

“Inez,” cried the Count, in a state of blind 
fury, “ don’t play with my anger 

“What big words, my dear!” replied she, 
shrugging her fair shoulders. 

“ Where is he ? ” shouted the Count. 

“ Well ! under the sofa ! ” 

All that was savage in the nature of this 
adventurer showed itself as if by magic. 
Drawing a revolver from his pocket, he rushed 
in the direction of the couch, indicated by the 
Countess. But as he siezed hold of it, a burst 
of laughter from the Countess awoke him to 
the chilling apprehension that he was the vic- 
tim of a cruel joke, and suddenly stopping, he 
glanced anxiously at her. 

She rolled in the chair on which she had 
thrown herself, laughing like an Olj^mpian 
Goddess ; almost swooning with hysterical ex- 
citement, so excessive was her enjoyment of 
the scene. 


High Life. 


113 


‘‘Ah ! said she, “ How ridiculous he is ! It 
passes all I ever imagined ! That he should be 
so easily taken in!.... Ah! oh! how it hurts to 
laugh so much, it is really too much ! Oh ! the 
pain in my side! Ah! I am suffocating, this 
will kill me’\... 

And again she screamed with loud irrepress- 
ible laughter. She could have sat for Augus- 
tine Brohan before the “Bourgeois Gentil- 
homme.’^ 

For a long time the Count was left to swal- 
low his wrath in silence. He could not get in 
a word, but at last, with a saddened air, he 
asked her : 

“Are you trying to make a fool of me,. 
Inez?’^ 

Then the young Countess getting up, assum- 
ing an air of superiority, ridiculed him with 
condescending pity. 

“Do you think I was for one moment the 
dupe of this forgotten handkerchief?^’ 

“But....” 

“Ridiculous pretext, in order to conceal 
wounded jealousy ; that was all ! Very well ! I 
have given you a Roland for your Oliver. If I 

8 


114 


High Life. 


have been snecessful, admit it, and applaud; 
or you will expose yourself to general ridicule, 
Monsieur le Comte de Bartholo/^ 

We have already said that she was not igno- 
rant of the fashionable literature of the day. 
The expedient to which she had had recourse, 
to save her from an imminent danger, was 
sufficient evidence of this. 

She had not invented this farce. She had 
borrowed the idea from one of Balzac’s works : 
‘‘The Physiology of Marriage.” 

Yet, to make up her mind to have recourse 
to it, a certain amount of daring was neces- 
sary; for if the Count, on his side, had read 
this work, this farce would have ended in a 
tragedy, and laughter would have ended in 
tears. Her hardihood consisted in having 
dared to risk it. Perhaps the severe moralist 
will substitute the word boldness for the one 
which we employ. But what can be done? 
There are situations so critical that no time 
can be wasted in weighing scrupulously the 
means adopted for getting safely out of it. 
There was cunning employed, certainly, and 
that is blam cable in the highest degree. Who 


High Life. 


115 


says to the contrary ? Only everything must 
be taken into consideration, and so long as a 
woman’s position in society remains that of a 
slave, of a minor, passing from the authority 
of a father to that of a husband, we must ex- 
pect these oppressed ones to have recourse to 
any shift in order to break the fetters which 
bind and degrade them. 

Ah, when later we have procured this eman- 
cipation, of which divorce is the first step — 
the emancipation dreampt of by socialists of 
high aims and lofty designs — then we will see 
this sex possessed of the rights which are now 
denied them, scorn to descend to those prac- 
tices which a Jesuit — even — hesitates to em- 
ploy in a worthy cause. 

But, alas ! we are far from the realization of 
this dream, far from that enfranchisement 
which has been so often promised us! And 
since we have scarcely begun to organize a 
congress, where elderly ladies can seek redress 
for their wrongs, and of whom they make a 
mere diversion, let us be philosophical, and 
grant the benefit of extenuating circumstances 
to this mass of would-be socialists, whose re- 


116 


High Life. 


ligion, even while consecrating their pretended 
subjection and inferiority, permit, in a way, 
instinctive duplicity. 

This is why, benevolent reader, we beg you 
not to be the first to throw a stone at our her- 
oine. Think of her past; imagine the danger 
erf her position, surprised by an angry, pas- 
sionate man, whom others, fully armed, had 
not been able to resist, and ask yourself, what 
would you have done in her place ? 

The Count, as crestfallen as a fox caught in 
a trap, managed to get out of his difficulty, 
with some apparent dignity. His face bright- 
ened, and dropping on his knees before Inez, he 
murmured in a caressing tone : 

^‘Forgive me! 

She was good at heart, for she could not re- 
sist him. 

'‘Naughty fellow she said, with an accent 
which betrayed the weakness of the disarmed 
conqueror. 

And he, charmed to be let off so easily, em- 
braced her warmly. 

They seated themselves on the sofa and a 
gracious dispute began. 


High Life. 


117 


‘‘I was wrong,” said the Count. ‘‘I was 
wrong in appearing to neglect you. And to 
begin with, look here, my Inez ; I will not re- 
turn to the club this evening. There, am I not 
good?” 

She appeared touched by this. 

^‘Ah!” said she, pleasantly, ‘‘I do not wish 
to exact my pound of flesh. It is enough that 
you will not continue the habit. And since it 
happens that this evening you have friends 
with you, go and rejoin them at this tiresome 
club. I permit you to do so freely.” 

“No. I would never forgive myself.” 

“But if I consent, and even advise it.” 

“ Am I in your way ? Do I weary you ?” 

“ What an idea!” 

“Well, then?” 

“A little punishment is, I think, advisable, 
under the circumstances. If it were not so late, 
I would ask you to take me to some theatre, 
but I will reserve that for tomorrow, and to 
keep you two nights from your club would be 
too much. I do not want to be too hard on 
you, my lion, or to ask too great a sacrifice on 
your part.” 


118 


High Life. 


‘‘Oh!” said the Count, ‘sacrifice!^ what 
a word! A ‘sacrifice’ which consists in re- 
maining near 3^ ou 

Gradually he had allowed himself to slip on 
his knees before her, and kissed the tips of her 
fingers. 

There was an interchange of soft noth- 
ings for a few moments longer, then Inez 
withdrew herself from his arms. 

“Count,” said she, leaving himstill on his 
knees, “since it is I who give orders this even- 
ing, go back to the club.” 

“You wish it? ” 

“Yes. I insist, that you may not think me 
jealous of the Green Cloth! It is caprice and 
willfulness on my part.” 

The Count got up, but happening to look 
behind the sofa, he saw, upon a work basket, 
a black satin object, shining like a mirror. 

It was Arthur’s opera hat ! 

His surprise was so great that he could not 
restrain a slight exclamation. 

“What is the matter? ” asked the Countess. 

“Nothing,” replied the Count immediately. 


High Life. 


119 


“I strained myself getting up; it is all over 
now.’^ 

Then approaching nearer to his wife, and 
still keeping up an appearance of tenderness : 

“So’’ said he, “it is true my Inez, you are 
sincere in wishing me to leave 3^ou this even- 
ing?” 

“I order you! ” replied she, with the air of a 
Spoilt child. 

And by a graceful, cat-like movement, she 
slipped into his arms, holding up her face. 

“You are an angel ! ” said the Count embrac- 
ing her. “I am off. I obey you. But, tomor- 
row !....” 

“Ah ! tomorrow!” 

“Yes! tomorrow.” 

She accompanied him to the hall, and 
parted from him with a friendly wave of the 
hand. 

Ah ! she was really charming ! 

It must not be forgotten, that during this 
little domestic scene, Arthur lay concealed in 
the depths of the sofa, not losing one syllable. 
It will not be necessary to attempt a descrip- 


120 


High Life. 


tion of his appearance, when he emerged from 
his hiding-place. 

Any illusion was a thing of the past. He 
was overwhelmed, worse yet, wounded and 
humiliated to an extent impossible to imag- 
ine! 

‘‘Ah! my God! my God!” he exclaimed, 
“is it possible that a Fandansec could have 
been ]3laced in such a position ! ” 

Memory once more conjured up the 
vision of his ancestors in the castle of 
Bicheterre. He saw them turning aside 
their faces from him, and moving their 
lips as if to pronounce maledictions on the 
head of their descendant. A hideous night- 
mare, a phantasmagorical picture, which 
bathed him in cold perspiration. Confined air 
probably ; S 3 ^mptoms of congestion. 

The Countess appeared anxious to console 
him. After helping him to remove the dust 
from his coat, she chafed his hands in order to 
restore circulation. 

“Well,” said she to him at last, “do you not 
feel a little better ? We can go now.” 

“ Go ! ” repeated Arthur. 


High Life. 


121 


“HeaYcns! Fate has decided for us! The 
crisis is over, without doubt, but the danger 
still exists; there is no other course open to us. 
The servants know you are here, — and what 
must they think ? Good God 1 to see their mas- 
ter leave us alone! — tomorrow, the Count 
will learn the truth, and then !....^’ 

‘‘It is true,’^ replied the young man, “ there 
is no possible means of drawing back.’^ 
Perhaps he had not quite recovered from the 
effect of his imprisonment, for his accent was 
altogether wanting in enthusiasm. 

And he mentally reflected : 

“This, then, is ‘High Life.^ I had conceived 
quite a different idea.’^ 

Inez had wrapped herself up in a large 
burnous. 

“I am ready !’^ she said. 

“So am I,^^ replied Arthur. 

He looked for his hat, all the time repeat- 
ing to himself, inwardly : 

“So this is what it is !....! had conceived 
quite a different idea; but I could not say 
differently if my head was on the block.^^ 
Scarcely had they quitted the room, when 


122 


High Life. 


one of the side hangings were parted, and a 
head appeared, that of the Count d^Aldai’a! 
Perceiving no trace of the fugitives, he stepped 
forward, and going to the balcony, threw a 
searching glance around, after which, return- 
ing to the window, he raised the curtain and 
listened. 

A voice was heard outside: ‘‘The gate 
please!” 

He did not stir. 

Ten seconds later, a distant sound assured 
him of the departure of Arthur and the Count- 
ess, an assurance which was soon confirmed 
by the sound of carriage wheels. 

Leaving the window, the Count advanced 
to the middle of the room, and yielding him- 
self up to the influence of the Parisian sur- 
roundings in which he had lived for somej^ear^s 
past, he expressed his thoughts in the cant of 
the “upper ten 

“That’s over! IPs his turn now!” 

He let himself drop into a chair, and with 
an air of indescribable relief he heaved a sigh : 
“Ouf!” 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE FOURTH ACT OF ‘‘FROU-FROU.’^ 

“ To Monsieur Arthur de Fandansec, 

Hotel Beau-Riviage, Geneva, Switzerland: 
“Happy Rascal and Dear Friend: 

“Enjoy your happiness in peace. I was in dread of 
scandal ! But you were born under a lucky star, and I am 
supremely contented. No one has taken the slightest notice 
of your departure. No one seems to be aware that you 
have carried off the ‘star’ of the foreign colony; this fasci- 
nating woman, whom a detestable tie bound to a husband 
altogether unworthy of her! 

“ I feared that the journals might speak of it. I have read 
them all. Not a word. 

“So I repeat, my dear friend, enjoy your happiness in 
peace.” 

At this point of the letter Arthur felt dis- 
contented, annoyed. 

To go the length of running away with an- 
other man’s wife, a leader of fashion, and no 
one to take an}" notice of it ! It was, by Jove! 
hardly worlh the trouble! 


124 


High Life. 


When he had fretted and fumed over this for 
some moments, he took up his letter and con- 
tinued to read : 

“One person only has spoken to me on the subject:” added 
his correspondent, “ The Vice Admiral. 

“Your absence from the ball, where you promised to give 
him your final answer, with reference to his niece, led him to 
think you were ill. The following morning he sent his valet 
to your rooms. He was told you had left town. 

“It was on hearing this, that he called on me. I thought 
it best to tell him the truth, and as he expressed, in my 
opinion, rather too much astonishment at the preference 

you had shown for the Countess d’A , I took the liberty 

of correcting his judgment regarding the facts as they really 
were. 

“ ‘In my turn I am astonished’ said I to him, ‘that you 
could have counted upon the success of this marriage pro- 
ject. Certainly, a union with your niece is not one to be dis- 
dainerl, as far as fortune and position go; but you will, I 
am sure, acknowledge that she has not much to recommend 
her in the way of personal attractions.’ 

“‘Tall, thin, almost bony, and unmistakably awkward, 
she would not gratify overmuch, the self love of her future 
huvsband. You will say she is at an age, when a young girl 
may still develop many charms. I hope it maybe so, for her 
sake. But I would not go the length of swearing it. And 
suppose no improvement does take place ? That has some 
times happened.’ 

“ ‘ On the other hand, she conducts herself like a baby, and 
dresses abominably. She talks at random, making amus- 


High Life. 


125 


ing remarks at times, which proves her perfect innocence 
no doubt, but at the same time provokes a smile. Look at 
her crossing a room ! She does not know how to walk ; 
but hops along like a school-girl, on her way to the play 
grounds. Now as to her accomplishments. Well ! yes, she 
does not draw badly ; shades with some degree of finish ; her 
trees look natural, her perspective correct, and the fore- 
ground not wanting in vigor. I allow all this, but again 
I ask you, what is there in all this to charm ? She plays a 
little on the piano, and she does not sing badly. Her voice 
is sweet, sympathetic, and has a good range. She plays her 
accompaniments accurately. No mistakes; every note is 
played as it is written. A musical box could not rival her 
in precision. But expression, soul, all that constitutes the 
artist, where is that ? ’ 

“The Vice Admiral gave me his undivided attention. I 
continued : 

“ ‘ While the Countess, Admiral, ah ! the Countess ! ....Her 
voice is a little tremulous, yes, but what expression ! It is 
true her touch is uncertain, and here and there the time is 
not all that could be desired, but what style! What man- 
ner! Her eyes, have you remarked her eyes? Her gaze di- 
rected upwards all the time ! Half veiled by her long lashes, 
the pupils barely visible, only the white showing.’ 

“ ‘ And what style, what manner! A queen among women. 
Her most trifling remark is couched in language most care- 
fully chosen ; to such an extent as to leave you sometimes 
in doubt as to her real meaning.... In one word, charming, 
charming, and always charming ! ’ 

“ ‘ Can you sympathize now with Arthur’s preference ?’ 


126 


High Life. 


“‘Go on,’ said the old man encouragingly. 

“ ‘Suppose also,’ I added, ‘that Monsieur de Fandansec 
was an ordinary young man, a new comer. But, such as he 
is, distinguished, with a style so peculiarly his own, as to 
attract the notice of all beholders. He might have agreed to 
trot out your niece as his wife; well, would you call that a 
fair arrangement ? ’ 

“ ‘ I understand,’ said the admiral, ‘yes, my niece is thor- 
oughly unskilled in all those little arts.... my self no less, I 
own. We are wanting in style.. ..it is to be regretted, and 
if I thought it possible to procure the offices of any one, 
who would instruct her on these points, I am not the man 
to hesitate about price. But where could I find such a one? 
And then, could she learn ? ’ 

“‘The wisest thing’ continued he, after a moment of re- 
flection, ‘ would be to look for a less brilliant connection, 
some one more ordinary.’ He looked at me searchingly; 
then, adopting a confidential tone: 

“ ‘ Look here, my dear boy, I am in a hurry, in an awful 
hurry, to settle Aglae ; for the dear child is terribly in the 
way.’ 

“‘I am fifty-three years old, and have sailed about the 
world since my infancy. At an age when others were amus- 
ing themselves, I was a prisoner on board ship, only being 
able to indulge in any pleasure at long intervals, and then 
always rushed for time. During one of my leaves of ab- 
sence, I was fool enough to get married. Always in a 
hurry, I did not sufficiently understand the character of 
my future wife. I was unfortunate enough to find myself 
bound to the most disagreeable, the most exasperating 


High Life. 


127 


woman to be met within the two hemispheres. Ah! my 
dear boy, what a detestable old scold she was ! Simply say 
to her : ‘ How are you my dear ? ’ She would draw herself 

up, and with the tone of a veritable harpy, reply : ‘ Don’t 
congratulate yourself. I am not yet in my last agony I ’ So 
that, when she did arrive at that happy state, I experienced 
a feeling of great relief.’ 

“ ‘It was, no doubt, very wrong; but what could one do ? 
She had so embittered my life and everything belonging 
to it, that to save myself from her clutches, immediately on 
entering into port I begged for a new commission.’ 

“ ‘ If she did not present me with children, don’t be aston- 
ished ; it would have required the intervention of the Holy 
Ghost.’ 

“She was, without any reservation, what Moliere de- 
scribes as a good-for-nothing jade! And if I did order her 
tomb to be cemented at every crevice, carefully fastened" 
sealed and padlocked, it was because I feared she might es- 
cape and torment me again.’ 

“‘However that may be, my life has been for these rea- 
sons, too prolonged a penance. At liberty at last, I would 
not like old age to creep upon me without enjoying some 
pleasure, cost what it may. But Aglae is an obstacle in my 
way, and without mincing the matter I would make a sac- 
rifice to get her olf my hands.’ 

“ ‘ You are a very clever young man,” said he, with a pecu- 
liar smile; “take it any way you choose, as a hint if you 
wish, but come and see us as often as you can.’ 

“I reflected seriously on this. I said to myself that 
beauty, fortune and fashion were equally wanting in my- 


128 


High 


self; that what would have been for 3’ou a ^mesalliance,'* 
ni3" dear fellow, would be for a bod^' like me an unlooked- 
for windfall, and as the Admiral invited me to come to lunch 
that very day, I offered all the polite excuses I could think 
of, while inwardly possessed with a burning desire to accept. 

“At table I passed Aglae all the side dishes, and when I 
refused some cream cheese, she insisted on helping me to 
some, saying: ‘You must take some if I help j^ou which 
obliged me to immolate myself on the altar of politeness, 
and swallow that detestable compound also. 

“We took coffee in the drawing-room, and she herself 
added the sugar. Then she opened the piano and began to 
sing, asking me to turn the pages for her. 

“At three o’clock, we noticed that for some time the Ad- 
miral had left us quite alone. And during the conversation 
which followed, without the slightest shade of embarrass- 
ment, she told me: 

“‘I see I am very much in my uncle’s way, which, with- 
out exacth" wounding, grieves me deeply. However, I am 
quite willing to relieve him of this responsibility as soon as 
I can. There is only one way out of the difficulty, and that 
is to get married. When the opportunity presents itself 
I have quite made up my mind to accept whoever is pro- 
posed to me. You see, I have been brought up at the Con- 
vent, and there they teach us that it is a young girl’s duty 
to accept as her husband any one her parents ma^" approve 
of, and to force herself by every means in her power to try 
and please him and make his life happy.’ 

“ ‘My religion teaches me this, and I mean to try and do 
what is right.’ 


High Life. 


129 


“What would you have done, Arthur, if you had been 
what I am, a struggling young bachelor, without any pre- 
tensions to style, and no claim to good looks ? 

“I tried to find the words to answer her, and proposed 
V g; myself as a suitor. But having lunched generously with 
1 ^^ the Admiral, I experienced some difficult3^ in expressing my 
sentiments clearly, and in the absence of mere words, I held 
out my hand to Aglae. 

“She gave me hers without hesitation. I waited a mo- 
ment, trying my very best to think of something to sa^". 
But finding that words refused to come, I drew her gently 
towards me and embraced her warmly, while she, in the 
most unaffected manner, threw her aims around me. 

“At this moment, the door opened, and the Admiral en- 
tered. 

“I expected that he would have cut up rough. Not at 
all. His face expressed the most profound satisfaction, so 
much so, that Aglae, in spite of some frantic efforts on m3' 
part, would not release me, and the good old soul said to 
us, in a voice overflowing with benevolent fatherly affec- 
tion: 

“‘My children, it is perhaps rather soon, but if you will 
consent to leave yourselves in my hands, you will not have 
too long to wait.’ 

“It follows from this, my dear boy, that our marriage 
bans have been announced for the first time this morning 
and that in ten days from now I will be her husband. 

“The Vice Admiral, made me send in my resignation, and 
has made me acquainted with the marriage contract, to 
be drawn up by the family Notary, without further delay. 


9 


l30 


High Lif£. 


There is granted to me unconditionally, a portion of five 
hundred thousand francs, and in case of my wife’s death, 
the half of her personal and private property. The same 
with regard to purchases, and successions, or deeds of 
gifts to be compiled. What do 3'ou say to that ? ” 

Long as this letter was, it did not stop there. 
In different postseripts, whieh betraj^ed some 
inward purturbation of mind, the writer of- 
fered numerous congratulations to Arthur. 

“Ah” said he “ At last you have realized 3’^our dream, for- 
tunate fellow! And who more worth\' of such happiness? 
You, so superior in yourself, that such material bliss as we 
poor common citizens enjoy, would be altogether obnoxious 
to you. 

“Enjoy your triumph, you lucky scamp and best of 
friends, and look with friendly complaisance on the good 
fortune that has come to an humble admirer, who takes an 
impartial view of himself, and sufficiently clear-sighted, not 
to allow himself to aspire to imaginary delights, fitted onh-^ 
for one of your noble nature, and superior excellence! ....” 

Here the following protestations of friend- 
ship, and then the signature: 

“Anatole Peignard.” 

Anatole Peignard, as it will be remembered, 
was Arthur’s friend. This excellent friend, 
good-hearted, no doubt, but not good-look- 
ing, who was alone to be entrusted with the 
address of fugitives, and keep them posted 


High Life. 


131 


as to the consequences which might ensue from 
their flight. 

In this interminable letter, that which struck 
Arthur most was the absence of any allusions 
to the Count d’Aldaia. 

What had he done, this injured husband ? 
What had he said on hearing of the wife’s 
flight? Had any one seen him? Had he de- 
clared any sort of intention ? Had he applied 
to the police, or was he careering over the 
mountain and plain, his sword under his arm, 
with the manifest intention of sacrificing the 
deceiver and his victim to his just wrath and 
wounded pride? 

‘‘What an odd fellow this Anatole is,” said 
Arthur to himself. “He speaks of himself 
alone! What can that have to do with me?” 

After reflecting a few minutes he hastened to 
the telegraph office and sent the following 
message : 

To Anatole Peignardy Rue RiboUte, 321, Paris • 

“Letter received; thanks; but he, you understand; he; 
what is he doing? what does he say? what are his inten- 
tions ? Answer ; very pressing. 


'Arthur. 


132 


High Life. 


Three hours later he received the following 
answer : 

“Geneva FROM Paris.... 3 , 874 ?.... 

“22 words. ... 1519 - 7 ... . 5.35 p. m.” 

“ To Arthur de Fandansec, 

Hotel Beau-Rivage, Geneva^ Switzerland : 

“Strange and retarded news of him. Too long and com- 
plicated to send by wire. Letter follows. ” 

“ Anatole.” 

Thirty hours must pass — and what hours! 
— before the triumphant corrupter of female 
virtue could receive this supplementary infor- 
mation: 

“iyy Dear Arthur: 

“If I failed to give you news of the Count in niy former 
letter, it was because I had not been able to glean any in- 
formation regarding his movements. 

“All that I have been able to learn up to this moment is 
xhat on the night of our departure he played at the Club 
and broke the bank, and raked in one hundred and seventy 
thousand francs. You see that the proverb is right: un- 
lucky in love, lucky at cards. Don’t you play, then; 3^011 
who are so fortunate in love. Good God ! I dream of it at 
night. How can yot exist with such a surfeit of happiness? 

“At the Club they accepted their loss philosophically. The 
envious ones said, with a knowing smile: 

“ ‘Never fear, he will bring them all back again !....’ 

“If he has given them back, it has certainly not been to 


High Life. 


133 


his former fellow-players. He has never put a foot in the 
Club since that night! 

“Anxious, as you may imagine, about his movements, 
and my inquiries being thrown away in that quarter, I sent 
a clever agent to make inquiries at his hotel and in the im- 
mediate neighborhood. 

“The first day he returned tome with a most singular, re- 
port to the effect that they had kept up dancing to a late hour ; 
there had been illuminations and fireworks ; open air con- 
certs and festivities of every description. 

“ I could not credit it, and the next day I went myself to 
investigate. No possibility of a doubt. By climbing on the 
shoulders of my man, so that I could see over the balcony, 
I witnessed with my own eyes a repetition of the previous 
evening’s amusement. Singing, dancing, illuminations were 
not wanting. They were carrying on a mad game, at a 
most infernal pace, sufl5cient to recall the good old times 
when Louis XY reigned over fair France, and procured for 
the people such pleasures as they had long been strangers to. 

“I left my uncomfortable post, simply thunderstruck, be- 
lieving myself the victim of some optical delusion, although 
the stick of a half burnt rocket, falling on my head, 
completely singing one side of my hair, soon convinced me 
I was not the victim of a dream. 

“The next morning, I went in quest of information, and 
here is the substance of what I learned : 

“The house as it stood, with all it contained, had been 
sold by the Count in a trice,.... guess to whom? 

“To the Prince Swenska, who had nothing more to do 
than to change the sheets, and find himself at home. He 


134 


High Life. 


had bought up the whole place, out and out, so that the 
Count had nothing to take away, but his own personal 
baggage. When the Prince took possession, he sat down 
to the dinner prepared for the owners of the day before, and 
they re-lighted the same candles, which the servants had 
extinguished after your departure. 

“I don’t know what price this new fancy cost the Prince, 
but it must have been a pretty stiff figure, for the Count 
paid all his debts within the twenty-four hours. 

“Now I think of it, there was rather an original scene, be- 
tween him and an upholsterer, who it seems, had been de- 
cidedly insolent to him. The Count went to this man’s es- 
tablishment, and found him surrounded by his workmen. 
‘Sir’ said he to him, ‘Here is the amount of your bill.’ 
The other, becoming at once obsequious in his politeness, 
begged that he would follow him to his office, to get a re- 
ceipt. 

“ ‘ Useless ! These honest fellows willl be sufficient witness 
that this bill is arranged between us. But we have a 
second!....’ 

“ ‘ A second bill ? What second bill ? ’ 

“‘You have then forgotten your impertinence of yester- 
da3’^ ?’ 

“‘But ’ replied the other, who, now his money was in 

his pocket, was less careful of pleasing his customer. 

“He did not get time to finish his sentence. The Count 
laying hold of him by the collar, lifted him up like a pen; 
then holding him outside the window, which he opened 
with one blow of his fist : 

“‘Apologize,’ said he, ‘or I will let you drop!...,’ 


High Life. 


135 


This appeared so evident to the upholsterer, that he 
did what was required with an alacrity that was startling. 
The Count satisfied, let him drop gently on the floor, and 
withdrew as if nothing extraordinary had happened. 

“The same evening he slept at the Hotel Mirabeau, Rue 
de le Paix. In the morning, when they brought him his 
coffee, on the mantle shelf there were three louis, and on a 
sheet of paper, these simple words : 

“ ‘ Expenses and tips from the traveler who slept here.’ 

“The hotel clerk had not even registered his name. 
After that the police were notified, and every possi- 
ble search was made, but not a trace of the Count could be 
found. Where is he? Why did he strive to conceal his 
movements ? I lose myself in conjectures. 

“At any rate, you will do well to watch!....” 

This advice threw Arthur into a state of per- 
plexity. Was it necessary to follow it, and 
take precautions ? Had it been any one else, 
no matter who, he would not have hesitated 
to have disappeared for a short time, or even 
to assume another name. 

But it must be remembered, that our young 
hero had a long line of illustrious ancestors to 
consider. Three of them had died of the itch 
in Palestine! One of his great grand aunts 
had been the mistress of a King of Arragon. 
There was a Fandansec among the favorites 


136 


High Life. 


of Henry the Third. All these personages, 
types to be found among all our noble fami- 
lies, would they not have reason to reproach 
their descendant, for showing the white 
feather? Was he noble, was he a Fandansec, 
to dissimilate, to appear afraid ? 

Meanwhile, he owed something to Inez also ! 
But security first. If the Count had been an 
ordinary man, from whom one might expect 
the recognized course of conduct under such 
circumstances, it would have been easier to 
decide. But Arthur mentally pictured the 
scene with the upholsterer, the setting on fire 
of the forest, which now seemed so much less 
improbable. In those distant countries, one 
forest more or less did not matter, and no one 
paid attention to it ; at the most, five or six 
lines would appear in the leading American 
papers, and there it ended. 

Well, supposing that this was the exact 
truth, what could one expect from a rash, im- 
petuous man, in the habit of proceeding in 
such a summary manner? Without wound- 
ing the susceptil)ilities of the Fandansec line, 
his first consideration ought to be for this 


High Life. 


137 


N'^oung woman whom he now found on his 
hands. Justice demanded this much, damn it 
all ! 

This will explain how, a few days after re- 
ceiving Anat ole’s second letter, our travelers 
left the Beau -Rivage and installed themselves at 
the other end of the lake, at Chateau -Chillon ; 
not at a hotel, but in a private boarding- 
house ; the sign being painted in flaming Eng- 
lish characters, which stood out in a very con- 
spicuous way on the front of the house. Inside 
also, everything bore the same English stamp. 
All was English ! At the same time the land- 
lady was Austrian and the servants Savoy- 
ards. As to the boarders, there were speci- 
mens from every nation, even to Hungarians. 
Also a Pole who possessed an admirable talent 
for carving a roast leg of mutton and making 
the ace turn up in ecarte with a dexterity that 
Robert Houdin himself might have envied. 

Oh, this delightful retreat! What charming 
society ! I don’t believe that even at Deauville 
they flirted as much as they did in this little 
family boarding-house ! Any pretext was good 
enough for it, and the most proper would have 


138 


High Life. 


thought themselves wanting in what was ex- 
pected, if immediately after soup being served, 
they omitted to give an affectionate pressure 
to their neighbor's knee, if only as an element- 
ary form of politeness. 

At dessert they organized a ‘‘round game,’^ 
where the Pole — as was right — exercised his 
skill so well, that at the stroke of ten, when 
the game broke up, he managed to take away 
with him the greater part of the pocket money 
of the unfortunate boarders. 

Not one moment of weariness! After break- 
fast, they played at hide-and-seek in the garden, 
and there were continuous shrieks of laughter 
proceeding from the darkest nooks. On rainy 
days, they all met in the drawing room, 
and amused themselves with “innocent’^ 
games. Blind man’s buff, for example, — frolic- 
some family game always! — where a young 
lady with bandaged eyes, had no other means 
of recognizing the player she caught, than by 
sitting down on his knees. A little game, abso- 
lutely patriarchel in its simplicity ! 

And then they arranged out of door parties, 
lunches on the mountains, excufsions on don- 


High Life. 


139 


keys, which led to all sorts of unforseen and 
constantly recurring accidents. There were 
those who lost themselves among the rocks! 
and were not seen again until they all returned 
to the boarding house, without counting those 
who never returned at all! A regular mar- 
riage establishment, a disloi^al opposition to 
the matrimonial agency of M. de Foy ! 

From the second day of their installation in 
this joyous retreat, the Countess found herself 
as completely in her element as a fish in water, 
and the Hungarian made himself, adopting the 
fashion of Italy — it was only two steps away, 
on the other side of that long chain of glaciers 
to be seen from the window — her ‘^cavalier 
servant,’^ in all confidence and honor, this must 
of course, be understood. 

She could not seat herself without his pre- 
cipitating himself at her with a footstool on 
which to place her dainty feet. He accom- 
panied her on the piano, kept all her waltzes 
exclusively for himself, and composed in her 
honor, madrigals and acrostics, in the purest 
Hungarian, of which he gave her a literal 
translation, in the recesses of the window. 


140 


High Life. 


Frequently, lie engaged a boat, which Artliur 
rowed until his arms ached, while the magnate 
— this was one beyond doubt! — scraped on a 
mandolin, singing songs of his own compos- 
ition. 

But, under all these accomplishments, he had 
the heart of a patriot, and an exalted mind. 
It must not be imagined, however, that he ac- 
cepted lightly the yoke Austria had placed on 
his country. His eyes flashed when this sub- 
ject was broached, and it proved the great es- 
teem in which he held Arthur and the Countess 
that he confided all his projects to them. This 
was nothing less than to regain the inde- 
pendence of his beloved country, if necessary, 
by desperate means. National war, insur- 
rection, even the sacrifice of his own life, if it 
was thought well that he should devote it, 
towards shortening the life of the emperor of 
Austria. 

Ah! this was not a man to hesitate about 
anything! Inez could not repress a shudder 
when she listened to him, and he seemed to her 
a veritable hero. 

Thus, when he found himself in trouble— the 


High Life. 


141 


bitter enmity of his political foes not stopping 
at anything, even to intercepting his money! — 
she made Arthur understand that he ought to 
offer his services to the exiled hero. But how 
scrupulous this Hungarian showed himself 
under the circumstances! Tears were in his 
eyes. They were forced to beg him to accept 
if only a hundred louis; but he exacted, that 
they should in return accept his note for this 
temporary loan. Ah ! how high souled he was 
in the midst of it all ! 

They aceepted this note at last; loeked it 
away carefully, and I believe have it to this 
day ; for he left at the end of the season, omit- 
ting to pay his bill — he iiad so many grand 
projects in view ! — and n«i one has ever heard of 
him since. 

Yet, Arthur and the Countess remained the 
latest stayers in the boarding house, awaiting 
the eompletion of certain legal delays. 

Reduced to their own society, by a season 
whieh was almost over, iney found time hang 
heavily on their hands, tuc evenings above all, 
although Inez had introduced a little game, not 
too complicated, called: “i^eggar my Neighbor. ’ ’ 


142 


High Life. 


It is a sort of “ Patience” for two players. 
They shuffle together twenty packs of fifty-two 
cards, and each one takes half, and in their 
turn play the cards one by one. It takes 
about four hours to play, when one does not 
finish by falling asleep, with their nose on the 
cards. Altogether a little family game. Ar- 
thur fell into a cold perspiration, when he saw 
preparations for beginning. He had hoped to 
amuse himself by subscribing to the i arisian 
papers; those, I understand, more particularly 
devoted to chronicling the movements of the 
fashionable world. By them he was kept 
posted on all that took place in “High Life,” 
the scandal of the green-room, the chit-chat 
of the club, of the betting, etc. 

But far from satisfying him, the reading of 
these papers caused him the most frightful 
heart -ache. He was overwhelmed. Oh! 
Paris!.... 

The Countess managed to get along pretty 
well, though slie, too, heaved some deep sighs. 
But a feeling of duty sustained her. 

“Dutj^?” What did she mean precisely by 
that ? What duty ? 


High Life. 


143 


Ah, yes; duty! That is, the strict obliga- 
tion to wait for the moment, according to pre- 
scribed law, when it would be possible to buy 
an estate, become naturalized, and obtain a 
divorce, then legalize her union with De Fan- 
dansec I 

The winter and early spring passed in this 
way, slightly monotonous, it must be con- 
fessed. Mont Blanc is certainly magnificent 
and Lake Leman, with its translucent waters, 
is also very beautiful ! And this natural gran- 
deur is impressive, no doubt; but always Mont 
Blanc, alwa3"S Lake Leman, and always natu- 
ral grandeur, finishing up with “Beggar My 
Neighbor,” soon palls on one! There are mo- 
ments when the dead level of St. Denis, the 
pond at Auteuil, and the view of a cab drawn 
b3^ a fiddle-headed charger, with great S3mime- 
try of bone, would inspire one with feelings of 
unbounded delight. 

With the first appearance of hot weather 
new guests began to make their apj^iearance ; 
strangers, as usual, another Pole, and another 
Hungarian; but not the same, although the 
newcomer harbored very patriotic sentiments, 


144 


High Life. 


and made no concealment of liis intention to 
deliver his country from the yoke of Austria. 
Like his ^Dredecessors, he had political enemies, 
who infamously threw obstacles in the way of 
his receiving the revenues he derived from im- 
mense properties really belonging to him over 
there, and although possessing the same deli- 
cacy of feeling which distinguished his compa- 
triot, he was honorable enough to offer his 
note to any who would accommodate him 
with a temporary loan. 

This time, however, Arthur was not to be 
taken in, and although offering sincere wishes 
for the success of his undertaking, was alwa3^s 
careful to be on the defensive, to an extent that 
somewhat astonished the Countess, who was 
deeply interested in the noble exile. 

Happily, the moment had arrived, when 
their own projects were to be realized. 

There was no longer any delay. Within six 
weeks, Inez was proprietress of a very pretty 
villa, on the borders of the Lake, about twenty 
minutes drive from Geneva; then,naturalized, di- 
vorced , and legally married to Arthur, the happy 
climax to all they had desired had been attaiiP-^d. 


High Life. 


145 


Therefore, strong in his marital rights, Ar- 
thur proposed to return to Paris, where he 
looked forward to carrying things with a high 
hand, and, with his lovely wife on his arm, be 
the sensation of the coming season. 

“What!’^ objected the ex-Countessd’Aldaia; 
“in July? There is no one in Paris 

In support of what she said, she showed 
Arthur the morning papers that had just ar- 
rived. 

“Paris is no longer Paris, chronicled thi 
papers. “All the better classes of society 
have gone to the seaside, the Pyrenees, or to 
Switzerland. A crowd, ordinary and common- 
place, throng our boulevards, our theatres, the 
Champs- Elys&s, and the Bois. The little 
Grannier, and Theo, are charmed to appear 
before these yokels, attired in their best Sun- 
day-go-to-meetings ; the jibes and jests of the 
immortal Christian stick in his throat, and 
strange forms can be seen wandering about 
the orchestral stalls ! Pah ! 

Arthur could not withstand this onslaught. 
He wanted to make a striking re-appearance 
in Paris. But could they not go to Trouville? 


10 


146 


High Life. 


There were the races in August, and all that con- 
stituted the upper ten were sure to be there. 

Inez held a different opinion. Since they had 
passed a whole year in Switzerland, why 
should they go away without seeing the Ober- 
land, the Lakes of Thounn and Interlaken, 
the Yungfrau, the Geisbach, on the Lake of 
Brienz, the Brunig Pass, the Rigi, Lucerne, 
etc? 

These objections seemed to have weight 
with Arthur, and they departed. 

Already, he had a feeling of delight, when on 
the second day of his sojourn at Berne, he read 
in the papers, among the list of travelers *. 

Hotel du Berner aff: 

Monsieur and Madame de Fandansec and 
servants.” 

That, ^^and servants,” had an immense ef- 
fect ; looked better on the paper than it was 
in reality, for the attendants consisted of two 
abominable Germans — husband and wife — 
who were the most bare-faced thieves to be 
met with on this side of the Rhine. Thieving 
was second nature to them — their natural vo- 
cation. 


High Life. 


147 


And this marriage, which was the consumma- 
tion of all his hopes, did not afford Arthur that 
unalloyed happiness which he had anticipated. 
He had gained his object it is true, but the re- 
ality was not exactly what he had counted on. 

It was a matter of disposition, no doubt. 
Many people are so constituted. The posses- 
sion of what they have longed for and in- 
tensely desired, leaves them with the sensation 
of having been duped and imposed on. You 
have obtained what you desired, no doubt, 
but there is an undefinable something wanting, 
impossible to describe. “It is nothing” said 
Joseph Prud’homme “and it is much!” In 
any case it is enough to imbue one’s life with a 
feeling of melancholy and vague regret. 

Now that she was his wife, the Countess ap- 
peared in quite another character. She had 
always the look of a fashionable woman of 
the world, this striking beauty, which distin- 
guished her in a marked manner. But Arthur 
had become accustomed to this, and the social 
triumphs which she so easily gained, did not 
give him that unalloyed pleasure, which he 
had formerly experienced. 


148 


High LiFfi. 


It seemed to him that she was too eager for 
admiration, and greedy of conquest. 

It did not seem to him that these triumph^ 
were very remarkable. It is true that men 
seemed struck on first seeing her, and could 
not find themselves in her immediate vicinity 
without making eyes at her in a way which 
made them look supremel3^ ridiculous. They 
paid her compliments of the most florid des- 
cription ; and made speeches that would have 
disgusted an opera dancer, and unworthy of a 
school boy. 

Yet she swallowed it all greedily. 

He began to suspect her of being too vain ; 
and in a manner that displayed a decided want 
of intelligence. 

It was all very well to pose for being a god- 
dess out of doors, when arra3^ed in one ot 
Worth’s costumes! But at home, in a wrap- 
per, seated at this damned “Begger my Neigh- 
bor,” where were the qualities which made 
her such a success in the ball room ? It was 
the very devil ! There was something wanting, 
but what he could hardl3^ say. 

Besides, all these little dissipations were very 


High Life. 


149 


different from the “High Life’’ which hehad so 
fondly looked forward to. This life he was 
leading, too much resembled that awful hum- 
drum existence from which he had fled in such 
terror. The mistake appeared a very grave 
one, a snare and a delusion. So he did not 
quite appreciate the beauties of the Oberland, 
and hoped always for the middle of September, 
when Paris would be again Paris, and he 
would once more return to the old habits 
which suited him so well. 

While waiting for this ardently hoped-for 
day, he wandered about unceasingly, passing 
from one glacier to another, crossing and re- 
crossing the lakes, and sleeping at Berneroff, 
Swirsteroff, and all the other Lucerneroffs, of 
the thirteen cantons. 

A beautiful trip, however, and a very beauti- 
ful country were it not that in the boats, 
hotels, or diligence, it was impossible to avoid 
coming in contact with those insupportable 
Germans, who eat with their fingers, and 
English, displaying the characteristic rudeness 
of their country. 

One beautiful morning in August, the young 


150 


High Life. 


couple were resting in their hotel at Rigi-Kulm, 
up in the heights, about two thousand feet in 
the air. As it happened the weather was 
superb, and they had had the pleasure of being 
suddenly awakened, by a most terrifying row, 
about four o’clock in the morning, in order to 
see the sun rise on the summit of the moun- 
tains. 

One singular habit they have, peculiar to 
that place alone. At a certain moment the 
waiters at the hotel ring a deafening bell, and 
go from door to door, giving resounding raps 
for the purpose of announcing that the cur- 
tain is about to be lifted on this truly beautiful 
scene. 

It is thoughtful on their part, but one’s first 
experience is rather alarming. You feel per- 
suaded that the house must be on fire. 

Then everyone makes haste to get up, and 
as it is only with the intention of going to bed 
again, any garment that happens to be con- 
venienient is donned. The greater number 
manage to get hold of their clothing, but 
others, afraid to miss the sight, envelop them- 
selves with the counterpane, the curtain, or 


High Life. 


151 


even tlie sheet, and hurry to the staircase, in 
order to arrive at the terrace, on which is con- 
structed a light scaffolding, which arises behind 
the two hotels of this place; the sole 
buildings, apart from the indispensible post- 
office, which they have dared to erect on this 
gigantic sugar loaf. 

This mixed crowd, uncombed, with eyes 
swollen from want of sleep, muffled up with- 
out pretension — indeed a little pretension 
would not be amiss! — forms a picturesque 
group which is not displeasing.... the first time! 

For Arthur, who had passed a week there, 
this matutinal entertainment had lost its 
charm, and he would willingl3^ have descended 
from these lofty spheres if his wife had con- 
sented. But a singular attraction detained 
her there. She experienced, she said, an ex- 
traordinary feeling of buoyant happiness, 
quite unknown before, and without joking, she 
felt herself brought into closer communication 
with the angels. 

“My soul expands,’’ she kept repeating, 
“and I do not want to leave the Rigi until 
I have witnessed a storm, so that once 


152 


High Life. 


during my life, I may inhale the breath of the 
of the tempest! ” 

“It is useless to argue on tastes and colors, “ 
sa3^s the proverb, and since it was not 3^et 
the middle of September, Arthur allowed her 
to indulge her fancy. Drag through the weaiw 
da3"S there, or at Lucerne, Alpnach, Alterfi, 
Witsnau, etc., it was all the same to him. 

This particular morning, he had a regular 
fit of the blues. He had left his room, and 
within a short distance from the hotel, he had 
seated hiimself on the ground, hugging his 
knees in his arms and gazing vacantly on the 
panorama spread before him. Sometimes a 
steamboat, furrowing the lake of Quatre- Can- 
tons, would attract his attention, but nothing 
more exciting than this broke the intense 
silence which reigned around him at this alti- 
tude. Not a bird, not even the sound of leaves 
rustling in the wind; nothing but a vast ex- 
tent, a void, silent gulfs all around. 

Suddenly the sound of a piano, coming from 
the hotel, awoke him from his reverie. The 
piano is an ungrateful instrument I allow, 3^et 
under the circumstances, he enjoyed listening 


High Life. 


153 


to this particular music. It was not an3^thing 
from the grand masters, nothing of Wagner, 
above all, not Berlioz ! But Arthur had enough 
of classical music! Inez did not admit of an3" 
other, and sometimes between two “Beggar 
my Neighbors,” she did not even hesitate to 
attack Joncieres. 

One evening, he surprised her reading the 
opera of Dimitri, with the musie upside down. 
To tell the truth, it went just as well! 

The unknown musieian whom Arthur was 
listening to, played a very different st3de ol 
music. He could not have told at first, whether 
it was Offenbaeh, Herve or Leeocq; but it 
pleased him ! There was a tune in it, a rythm, 
very well played ; in fact, a melody. There was 
something to understand ; not a eonglomera- 
tion of incomprehensible notes. It was alto- 
gether charming, gs^y, and inspiriting. 

Presently a 3^oung, fresh voice broke out on 
the stillness of the morning air, and Arthur 
recognized some words, which he was mis- 
taken in supposing were those of Herve, 
Lecocq; or Offenbach; it was simply a frag- 
ment from ths “Pre aux Clercs.^^ 


154 


High Life. 


In spite of himself, he turned his eyes to- 
wards the window from which these delight- 
ful sounds proceeded. A moment later, the 
music ceased and a young girl appeared at the 
casement. 

^‘It is singular,’’ said Arthur to himself, “but 
it seems to me I have seen that face before.” 

Nothing could exceed the smiling happiness 
of this young girl’s expression, which the 
clear light of the morning brightened up de- 
liciously. It was not a regal style of beauty, 
no; but the freshness of early youth, the 
matchless grace of a young girl just emerging 
into womanhood. 

Her hair, arranged carelessly, brought out 
in relief the rosy tints of a complexion ex- 
quisitely pure. Her look was happy and full 
of gay tenderness. Her rounded arms, and 
finely formed hands, were displayed under the 
loose sleeves of alight morning dressing gown, 
and her shoulders and bust would have de- 
lighted the soul of a sculptor. Ah, what a de- 
lightful young girl! Yes, nature, when she 
chooses, turns out beautiful specimens! 


High Life. 


155 


'Xertamly/' said Arthur to himself, ‘‘I have 
seen that face before!’^ 

Shortly after, a young man in traveling cos- 
tume, wdth every appearance of wealth about 
him, came out of the hotel, and lighted a 
cigar. 

From his present position, Arthur could not 
distinguish his features, but what he did s^e, 
was a very pretty scene, and very pleasant for 
those who played their parts. 

The young woman, leaning out of the win- 
dow, called to the new comer, who went joy- 
ously up to greet her. A little argument fol- 
lowed. Then, the young tourist climbed up, 
the young girl bent forward at the risk of fall- 
ing out of the window, and gave him a kiss, after 
which they looked at each other for a moment 
and then laughed heartily together. 

One more ! said the young man. 

Greedy boy ! said the pretty stranger. 

Upon which she shut down the window, 
when the young tourist, turned in the direc- 
tion where Arthur was sitting. 

“ Anatole ! cried he recognizing him. 


156 


High Life. 


^‘Fandansec! ” said the other, coming to 
him with both hands extended, and grasping 
his warmly. 



CHAPTER V. 


COMMONPLACE LIFE. 

After the first moment of joyful recognition, 
Arthur said to his friend : 

‘‘Ah! by the by, who is that young person 
with whom you rehearsed the part of Romeo 
on a small scale?’’ 

“You saw what took place 

“ Everything 1” 

‘ ‘ Ah I ’ ’ said Anatole, ‘ ‘ I am covered with con- 
fusion, as with a garment. You must have 
laughed at me?” 

“ Certainly not I” 

“ Oh ! nonsense I You must have found that 
sort of thing rather commonplace, not to say 
low!....” 

“ Not that, on my word ! ” 

“What would you have, my dear fellow? 
One must bow to the inevitable ! You are ‘ De 


158 


High Life. 


Fandansec/ I am simply ‘Peignard.’ Your 
ancestors fought for the Holy Sepulchre, and 
mine, if I had an3^, have in the most plebeian 
fashion, sold fustion in a dusty shop ; in short, 
everything about 3^ou savors of the bloated 
aristocrat, while I, grandson of a meehanic, 
only enfranchised since the Reign of Terror, 
have been foreed to restrain my clownish ap- 
petites, and bow meekly to the commands of 
my superiors. Well, old man, in spite of the 
friendship with which you honor me, I feel the 
difference that exists between us. Are you the 
one to look with indulgent eyes on such a boy- 
ish trick ? It merely excites your pity. And 
what do you think of my accomplice?’^ 

“Once again, nothing that you would not 
like to hear. But do tell me who she is !” 

“You did not recognize her?” 

“Wait a moment! The Admiral’s niece?” 

“ Precisely 1 ” 

“Aglae?” 

“Yes; Aglae, my wJfe, as 3^ou doubtless are 
aware.” 

“Just so I I had quite forgotten.” 

“Look here,” said Anatole, “that is what 


High Life, 


159 


takes away from all the romanee of this scene, 
she IS simply my wife. My dear fellow, my 
wife. Is this sufficiently middle class, suffi- 
ciently commonplace ? And to think that at 
one time you thought of marrying her your- 
self! Can you imagine Arthur de Fandansec, 
in love with a person so easily amused? And 
again, that which shows my inferiority, my 
hopeless vulgarity, is that it amuses me as much 
as it does her. Worse still 1 It appeals to me, 
makes me love her all the more, in fact, I find 
her adorable, and I simply worship my own 
wife!’^ 

^‘She has grown uncommonly pretty,^^ said 
Arthur, a little absently. 

‘‘Ah! she is no beauty, but she has greatly 
improved. Last year she was at an age when 
young girls rarely look their best, and mar- 
riage has hastened the transformation. And 
then, she knows how to dress becomingly, and 
not to bundle herself up, as she did when fresh 
from the convent. But she cannot be named 
in the same breath with your wife, a world- 
renowned beauty, superb and magnificent, a 
queen in every respect; fit to be an empress !” 


160 


High Life. 


‘‘She sings ver3^ well, however, your Aglae?’^ 

“You were listening, just now?’^ 

“I had that pleasure, and enjoyed it very 
much.’^ 

“You are too indidgent! She has undoubt- 
edly made progress, and her taste has im- 
proved, according as her voice has gained in 
power and purity of tone. And then her 
newly awakened affections, and the happiness 
consecjuent on a marriage sanctified by love, 
has imparted an amount of expression to her 
voice, which was before wanting. But you see 
all the attempts as yet: Herold, Getty, Boikl- 
dieu, Rossini, Verdi, old-fashioned style ; worse 
than that, Auber ! At the most, she attempts 
Gounod, and certain pieces of Mozart’s. But, 
go and ask her to play something from Tan- 
hattser, from Lohengrin ? Never! alas! The poor 
child has not a sufficiently exalted soul to at- 
tain to these sublimities. To give you an idea 
of her capabilities ! Lately, she began to study 
Le Roi de Lahore. My dear fellow, I im- 
plored her to stop ! It was enough to drive 
one frantic. And the most amazing thing 
about her is, that instead of thinking she could 


High Life. 


161 


not comprehend this masterpiece, she declares 
it to be a composition both bald and poverty 
stricken. 

“And so Arthnr, you can imagine yourself 
married to a person who holds such heretical 
doctrines? She never wearies me, because I 
am an insignificant nobody, and this music of 
the new school sends me to sleep. But you ! .... 
you who are daily regaled by the countess, 
with the astonishing compositions of the great 
master at Pasdeloup! You, who float about 
in those harmonious waves of harmony in- 
voked by German genius. How would you 
feel were you condemned to listen to the 
Pre aux Cleres, La Favorite, Robert-le-Dia- 
ble, Les Huguenots, Le Trouvere, Guil- 
laume Tell, and other musical trifles of the 
same st3de, when the countess can scarcely 
condescend to sing a morsel from Aidel 
Good enough for me, said Anatole, inflnish- 
ing. “Good enough for a person of common 
origin, married for worldly considerations, to 
a young girl of her limited capacity ! 

Arthur had a singular impression while list- 


11 


16 ^ 


High Life. 


eiiing, which gave him a feeling somewhat 
akin to anger. 

At the same time, all that Anatole said was 
very near the truth. Yes, Anatole was of very 
ordinary extraction, while he, Arthur, was de- 
scended from a long line of illustrious ances- 
tors; the Countess was possessed of rare 
sculptural beaut^^, while Aglae would not have 
made more than a pretty sketch. Also Inez 
would undertake to render without hesitation, 
the most obscure and profound German mas- 
terpieces, when Aglae would not dare do any- 
thing beyond the light elegancies of the French 
school. But all the sublime qualifications oi 
the Countess he knew by heart, and had long 
ceased to relish, while the humhle charms of 
the Vice-Admiral’s niece, seemed to him the 
most desirable rarities. 

Certainl3^. the comparison which Anatole 
had made between the two women, ought to 
have been very flattering to Arthur, ami yet, 
he kept saying to himself, that he had judged 
too quickly, and trusted too much to appear- 
ances. The congratulations with which he 
had overwhelmed him, had given him a sensa- 


L GH 


163 


tion analogous to that which one experiences 
when taking a bite of an unripe lemon. And 
in spite of all, Arthur kept drawing compari- 
sons inwardly. 

To himself he could afford to be frank? Well! 
Lohengrin, Tanhauser, le Roi de Lahore, 
simply drove him wild. The greatness of soul 
possessed b3" Inez, had an irritating effect 
on his nerves. As to her Ohmipian st3de of 
beauty, a little of it went a great way, par- 
ticularly as he had not been long left in ignor- 
ance how much the appliances of Art had to 
do with it. On her toilet table there was an ar- 
ray of cosmetics, pastes and beautifiers that 
was simply astonishing. The laboratory of 
the alchemist was nothing to it. 

Aglae, on the contrary, was pure and fresh 
as a wild rose, and loveh^ in herself, with 
nothing beyond the grace with which her 
eighteen summers had crowned her, the whole 
probably rendered more fascinating b3’^ an in- 
nocence that would have routed Jupiter him- 
self. 

And to think that it had only depended on 
his own choice to become the husband of this 


High Life. 


164 

fresh young goddess ! And to watch the 
moral and physical deYelopnients, which Ana- 
tole had so graphically^ described. 

Why the devil hadn’t he the sense to think ( f 
it then? Oh! the hateful influence exerted 
over a man when he has one idea, and that a 
bad one, fixed in his mind ! He had formed 
his opinion of these two women simply from 
outward appearances, and it was only of late 
that he had discovered how much he had 
erred. 

And yet, he had another inward confession 
to make. The predilection of the Countess for 
“grand music,” had not inspired him with un- 
qualified delight, even at this period, that is to 
say, when the one idea which took possession 
of all his faculties was to rescue her from the 
Count. 

He had never failed to applaud; but how 
many times had he been obliged to take a turn 
in the conservatory to prevent himself falling 
dead asleep ! 

And the eternal “ Beggar my Neighbor.” To 
think that he took a savage delight in disturb- 
ing the Count in the middle of the game which 


High Life. 


165 


he had commenced with his wife ! It is true, he 
could alwa3^s find some pretext for pressing* 
the Countess’ foot under the table ! 

“Ah! b3"e the b3x, does Aglae pla3r “Beggar 
my Neighbor?’’ he asked Anatole. 

“No;’’ replied the other. “You have had an 
opportunity of judging. We have other ways 
of amusing ourselves.” 

And poor Fandansec, without making more 
inquiries, could not help pit3dng himself, and 
came to the conclusion that he had made a 
gigantic mistake, and had sacrificed the sub- 
stance for the shadow ! 

A bell announced the hour for breakfast. 

“We will meet again,” said Arthur. 

“Excuse me,” replied his friend, but Aglae 
does not like the table-d’hote. We have our 
meals served in our own room ; breakfast, par- 
ticular! 3% is much more agreeable in this man- 
ner, as we need not dress for the occasion. It 
costs more, of course, but we can do as we like, 
dawdle over our dessert with our elbows on 
the table, and sa3^ all the foolish things we 
choose, which would appear in doubtful taste, 
outside strict privacy. Besides, the prke, 3^0x1 


166 


High Life. 


know, need not eost ns a thought. Apart from 
Aglae’s income, the Admiral has been very gen- 
erous, and told us to spend money freely. He 
wishes it, and we gratify him ! A strange sort 
of man, truly ! 

This eame like a thunderbolt upon Arthur. 
The purchase of the property in Geneva had 
reduced his income considerably, and he had 
to reflect seriously before indulging in any little 
extravagance. 

As Anatole held out his hand before return- 
ing to his wife, Arthur said : 

“Well, old fellow, since chance has brought 
us together again, we shall meet frequentl}^ I 
hope. It would be a capital idea to make 
an excursion together through this beau- 
tiful country. Tell me, at what hour would it 
be most convenient for you to present your 
wife to Madame de Fandansec? She knows 
her slightly, I think, and I can answer for it, 
will be charmed to see her again. 

Anatole seemed slighth- embarrassed at first, 
then seeing Arthur look surprised, with a slight 
look of annoyance on his face, he smiled frankly, 


High Life. 


167 


and holding ont his hand again with a little 
friendl3^ movement: 

“My dear fellow,” said he, “3^011 are toomueh 
a man of the world not to understand a hint, 
sol need not offer empty excuses. Old friends 
like ourselves can speak to each other without 
reserve. You will have no difficulty in compre- 
hending matters just as tliC3^ are, I am sure.” 

“ Difficult3\^ ” said Arthur, strvick with a pre- 
sentiment that something disagreeable was 
about to happen. “What difficulty do 3^ou 
allude to ?” 

“Damn it all, old man, the difficulty of estab- 
lishing friendly relations between our wives.” 

“And where, then, is the difficult3^?” 

“Look here, Arthur, let us speak to each 
other frank 13^ !” 

“ As frankl3^ as you choose ! ” 

“You will not be offended ?” 

“I will not be offended. Indeed, why should 
I be?” 

“ You, no ! because you know the world, and 
have liberal ideas. But another, a man with 
restricted ideas....” 

“ For the love of heaven ! ” cried Arthur, “ d^ 


1G8 


High Life. 


S')eak^tit ! What do yoti mean? Is my family 
11 )t good enough that yon should hesitate 1 
present your wife to mine? Explain yourself. 

‘ ‘ Nothing of the kind ! Apart from the stipe - 
riority of her position, \^our wife’s age entitles 
her to expeet that Aglac should make the first 
visit — if any intimacy could be possible be- 
tween them.” 

“That cannot be, then?” said Arthur. 

“ good friend, you forget that Aglae and 
I are nothing more nor less than common citi- 
:icens....” 

“Well, then?” 

“Well, then, you know how ridiculously 
punctilious the middle class are about certain 
positions.” “Ah! if we onh' belonged to the 
higher classes, to the old aristocraejy or even the 
new, by Jove! there would not be the slightest 
difflcult3^ They practice a morality apart, as 
is becoming to the upper ten. But in our 
commonplace world, I need not inform 3"ou, 
and 3"ou know how much I deplore the fact, 
such situations are stupidly regarded as being 
ecjui vocal.” 

“Ah! but..,,” 


High Life. 


109 


‘‘Let me liiiisli, Arthur, my good fellow; 
what the devil! one is either a friend or not! 
Well then, I regret it; but a young woman of 
the middle class, like Aglae, simply a ‘Madame 
Peignard ’ could not receive in her drawing- 
room, or at her table, or at her countiw house, 
— a magnificent seat ! You’ll see it one da^^ — in 
in one word, could not be on friendly terms 
with a person who had eloped ! ” 

“And, certainly,’’ added he, without stop- 
ping to remark the consternation of his friend, 
“and certainly, I feel more than anyone else, 
how unjust and ridiculous these prejudices are. 
But what can Ido? I cannot of lUA^self reform 
the narrow-minded opinions of the world to 
which I belong. They might be guilty of rude- 
ness to your wife, and I should feel outraged 
and annoyed. At the worst, ifl was sure no 
one would surprise us, I might induce Aghie 
— she is ver\^ indulgent to my fancies, — to ask 
3'ou both to breakfast with us one day. Only 
it would have to be strictly private; but it 
will take some time to prepare to pave the 
way, to....” 

“Enough! Am I dreaming; have I just ar- 


170 


High Life. 


rived from the Congo?” cried Arthur excite- 
edly. have fallen from the clouds, that is 
certain. Ah! indeed, and where are there 
any, among the most straight-laced people in 
the world, who could see an^^thing equivocal, 
in the position of Madame de Fandansec? Is 
she not my wife? Are we not married? Are 
we....?” 

He stopped short, speechless with astonish- 
ment at the hearty laugh with which Anatole 
greeted this sall3^ 

‘‘Yes,” said he ‘the divorce?’ Your mar- 
riage? ....What an original idea! How amus- 
ing! You alone would have thought of mak- 
ing such an escapade. ‘Madame Caverlet,’ 
yes, 3^es ! I know all about it. The best thing I 
ever heard of, on my honor! ” 

“Amusing ? ” cried Arthur. “Not at all ; on 
the contrary, nothing could be less amusing, 
unfortunately! I am married, my good fellow, 
reall3^ married ! I will go and get my pa- 
pers.” 

He rose to go, but Anatole stopped him, still 
laughing. 

“Don’t give yourself unnecessary trouble. 


High Life. 


171 


I don’t doubt you. But, Arthur, my good 
fellow, where will 3"ou find an\"one in our class 
to admit that the position Madame Inez occu- 
pies with regard to you, is a strictly regular 
one, while the Count d’Aldai'a is still living? 
It is not reasonable. She is legallj^ divorced, I 
admit it. You have married her, all that is 
understood, but, this only holds good in Swit- 
zerland! Nowhere else. Where is the priest, 
who would consent to bless your union? 
Where are those on the same footing with 
Aglae for instance, who would receive in their 
homes the divorced wife of the Count 
d’Aldaia? Take Inez to England, German}^ 
Belgium, Holland, Sweden, to the United 
States — wherever divorce is legally admitted, 
and try to gain a footing in society ? Here, 
even in this protestant Switzerland, where 
your marriage has been celebrated, tr^' it! 
You will soon see what obstacles 3^ou will 
have to overcome. It is not only the text of 
the law which holds good ; there are customs 
which have to be observed. And although she 
has become Madame de Fandansec, she still 
remains nothing more or less than ‘divorced;’ 


172 


High Life. 


that is to say, a person outside the pale of 
society, one apart, and to sum it all up — in a 
doiibtful position? ” 

“All the more reason that here, in France,” 
added Peignard, “among our middle class 
people, where divorce is not approved of, why 
the companionship of those who seek for and 
obtain this emancipation, is to be avoided, in- 
asmuch as they are supposed to set an evil ex- 
ample. Trul}^ it is not to a man, whose an- 
cestors had the glory of succvmibing to the 
itch in Palestine, who have bravely plundered, 
violated, robbed and massacred all that came 
in their wa\" — for the glor^^ of the ‘Most High’ 
to be sure — that it becomes me to cite the 
opinions of a socialist. Commonplace, low- 
class ideas, doubtless, and I beg you to ex- 
cuse me ; but at the same time, they are ideas 
imbibed at the mother’s breast ! ” 

An hour had almost elapsed since the^^ began 
this somewhat lengthened discussion, and 
Aglae came to the window and reminded her 
husband that breakfast was waiting. ‘ ‘ Bvery- 
thing will be cold,” she called out. 


High Lif^. 


17^ 


He blew her a kiss, and holding out his hand 
to Arthur : 

“Let m3" frankness,’’ said he to him, “prove 
the depth and devotion of my friendship. 
Good -b3"e !” 

Without waiting for an answer, he went, or 
rather flew, to rejoin his pretty wife. 

For a long time Arthur remained as if 
stunned from a sudden blow, fighting desper- 
ataly against the impressions which An at ole 
had sought to convey. He refused to agree 
with him, feeling all the more irritated because 
of an inward voice which kept repeating in a 
sort of refrain : 

“He is right ! .... a thousand times right !....” 

In recognizing the justice of Anatole’s criti- 
cisms, he was forced to acknowledge, that he 
had let himself be duped like an ordinary 
schoolboy; and had acted like a veritable igno- 
ramus. A disagreeable confession to have to 
make to one’s self! 

Like many others in a similar difficulty, he 
preferred to work himself up into a rage, 
against the world in general, and the Countess 
in particular. 


174 


High Lib'e. 


What an amiable expression he wore, when 
he joined her at the breakfast table! Every- 
thing about her irritated him. Had she pow- 
dered and painted snccessfnll3' this morning? 
And what a singular costume she wore! She 
had evidently sworn to be mistaken for a “ co- 
co tte!” It was bad enough when she was only 
the Countess d’Aldaia! But she was now 
Madame de Eandansec ! And she honored him 
by dressing in such a wav, that her husband 
had the appearance of being — that which he 
was not — if yon please ! 

In the afternoon the two ^^oung couples met 
face to face. The men went through the cere- 
mony of lifting their hats. 

“Surely I am not mistaken,^’ asked Inez. “Is 
not that 3"our good friend Anatole?^^ 

“The same!” replied Arthur, drily. 

“And this person on his arm? I recognize 
her: Aglae, the niece of the Vice Admiral ?” 

“The same!” repeated the young man, 
clenching his hands. 

“Ah! indeed, the young girl you threatened 
to marry, naughty fellow,” pressing his arm 
with a pretended feeling of jealousy. 


High Life. 


175 


All! can anything be more unpleasant tlian 
alfectionate overtures, from the woman you 
no longer love! — wlio always sueceeds in 
making the most irritating remarks ? Arthur 
was ehoking with annoyance. It would have 
relieved him to burst into a torrent of exple- 
tives against the loveh^ being, who hung so 
heavily on his arm at this moment. 

He kept glancing at his friend’s wife, and 
envy, pale envy, entered Ins soul. How she had 
changed, this Aglae! Ah, how gracefully she 
moved ! And in what a pretty manner she 
kept step with her husband, clinging so lov- 
ingl3^ to his arm, her shoulder against his, 
merging her own being so completel}’' into his. 
What a simple dress she wore! So suited to 
her fresh young beauty, which had not 3^et 
made the acquaintance of rouge or pearl pow- 
der ; the lines of her figure, so abso!utely nat- 
ural in their full, graceful beauty; her youth, 
that admirable and fascinating youth, which 
possesses a charm art cannot supply! 

In spite of every effort to the contrary, Ar- 
thur kept recalling the scene enacted at the 
window in the morning. 


17C 


High Life. 


“ Greedy l)oy,” Aglae had said. 

He heard her again, and shivered at the 
remembrance of the tender inflection of her 
voice. 

Then some of the remarks made by Anatole 
on the subject of the Countess would recur to 
his memor3^. 

Apart from her position,” he had said, 
“\^our wife’s age entitles her, etc.” 

Her age! Well, 3^es, her age; what was it? 

The Countess had owned to thirty 3^ears. 
Eveiyone knows what that means. And, sup- 
posing she was only thirty, that made her 
still seven years older than Arthur. 

He knew it, certainly. Also when signing 
some papers, she had been cpiestioned on the 
subject. 

“What has that to do with it?” She had 
said. 

And now that his feelings had undergone a 
change on this subject, now that he had 
recalled the words of the ma^^or when he 
cemented the tics which bound them together: 
“She is 3"ours, 1113^ dear sir, and none other’s, 
altogether and complcteh" belonging to 3"ou;” 


High Life. 


177 


now it seemed to him that the difference 
of age did count for something. 

Something ! But what ? Can any one say ? 
Does any one know ? A mere matter of feeling, 
impossible to explain or define. 

In all confidence, we must state that this 
woman, this incomparable Inez, for whom for- 
merly he wotdd have gone through fire and 
water, had become to him an object of abhor- 
rence. She was a burden to him, and her very 
appearance threw him into a state of nervous 
irritability. How had this happened ? What 
combination of circumstances had led to this ? 

It will suffice, in the absence of a better ex- 
planation, merely to state it as a fact. It was, 
alas ! undeniable, whatever she did, whatever 
she said, she only succeeded in aggravating 
and annoying him. He made use of every legit- 
imate pretext to get away from her, but the 
step of his life did not afford much comfort to 
the poor devil. However far apart he was 
from Inez, he could not banish her from his 
mind. 

Sometimes, seated on some solitary rock, in- 
different to the beauties of the surrounding 


12 


m 


High Lii^h. 


country, wliicli in fact lie hardly saw, he would 
say to himself: 

“It is most astonishing, almost scandalous, 
and appears as if it could happen only to me, 
that a wife can be taken away from her legiti- 
mate possessor, without any interference from 
him. I have read a great many romances on 
this subject, for novelists have always this 
idea in their heads. I have seen heaps of arti- 
cles, written on this theme, and still more I 
have followed the reports of a hundred cases 
of this kind and always, always ! in fiction, as 
well as in real life, the husband appeared, at 
least appeared to dispute the legal possession 
of his wife. Sometimes it was a duel that took 
place, or a law suit, but always something 
rises up between the lovers, to separate them 
forever. 

“But for me, it is just my luck ! I am sick of 
this Count d’Aldaia, this wily old fox, who was 
to carry things with such a high hand ! Well, 
but where is he ? What is he thinking about ? 
How does it happen that he has not yet dis- 
covered vi» ^ Must I make known to him our 


High Life. 


179 


retreat by publishing it in the papers? It is 
incomprehensible !” 

These reflections grew more intense, as the 
time for visiting his beloved Paris drew near. 

“I venture to say he has exhausted himself 
hunting for us. Ah ! I have hit it at last ! And 
it he does not find us, it is. because he does not 
wish to; for no one in the wide world could 
take less trouble to conceal our whereabouts 
than I do!” 

One can imagine how mortified Arthur felt, 
while listening to Anatole’s very plain speak- 
ing. But, thinking over it calmly, he did agree 
with him up to a certain point, although still 
nursing a feeling of annoyance! Worse still, 
a sensation of bitter envy had taken posses- 
sion of him. 

When he met Algae, leaning on her husband’s 
arm, he could not refrain from saying inwardly: 
^‘If I had only wished ! This pretty wife would 
have been mine ; I would have been the one to 
joke with her; it is to me she would have said: 

‘ Greedy boy !’ It would have been for my edifi- 
cation that slie would sing all that she knows 
of Herold, Rossini, Halevy, Auber. And now 


180 


High Life. 


see what I have lost ! What an ass I was • 
What a confounded blockhead I have been ! ” 

Vain regrets, but painful. On the other hand 
the time drew near when, his income being al- 
together insufficient to meet the extravagant 
demands of the Countess, he would be com- 
pelled to draw on his capital, if onh^ for the 
purpose of installing themselves in Paris. 

At last ! — day to be remembered ! — the mid- 
dle of September arrived. On the sixteenth, 
at four o’clock in the morning, Arthur and the 
Countess took their seats in the trciin for Paris. 

Thanks to telegrams, and orders given by 
letter, Arthur’s old valet opened the door of 
the coupe in which they had traveled, took 
possession of their small packages, and led 
them to the carriage which was waiting for 
them. 

The young man heaved a sigh of relief. It 
was happiness to return to Paris, even though 
he had only been a Parisian for a short time. 
These streets, these houses, pavements, om- 
nibusses, even the policemen, were altogether 
delightful, and it cheered him up as nothing 
else could have done, to see them again. He 


High Life. 


181 


felt himself at home at once. Thank God! 
I am here at last,” said he. 

During the last month of their stay in 
Switzerland, Arthur had escaped the wild ex- 
citement of “Beggar my Neighbor,” under 
the pretense of furnishing designs for the deco- 
rations of their new apartment — What did I 
say apartments? His hotel, if you please. It 
was indeed a hotel, a small one, to be sure. 
Chaussee de la Muette, at Passy, so beauti- 
fully shaded, that mushrooms sprang up at 
the foot of the trees. 

He had rented it from after having often seen a 
photographic sketch of the house and grounds. 
It was small, but a very cozy, charming little 
nest. When Inez descended from the carriage 
and entered, her face darkened. Good heavens ! 
this was very different from her spacious and 
superb villa in the Rue Balzac. And then the 
stables ; where were they ? Not an3^ stables ! 
And the bath room on the ground floor 
What : a tin-lined bath-tub . At the villa her 
bath was of white marble! Ah, my God! 
wtiat a kitchen! And the pantry? there was 
not even a pantry ! 


182 


High Life. 


Why, the drawing-room had no bondoir 
communicating with it; no smoking or billiard 
room. A little nest, m}^ lad 3^ ! 

^‘A shelter,” replied she; “a mere shelter.” 

It was certainly most artistically arrayed. 
The upholsterers had followed out Arthur’s 
designs Yerj cleverly. Each piece of furniture 
was the reproduction of some old stide. 

“Yes; but,” objected the Countess, “the 
walls are papered !” 

“At thirt3" francs the roll, my dear Countess.” 

“Over there we had hangings.” 

“Possibl}",” returned the young man, feeling 
wounded in his self-respect; “but thej^ were 
not paid for.” 

Inez looked at him in astonisnment, min- 
gled with pity. 

“What has that got to do with it?” said 
she, in a tone which cut short her husband’s 
reply. 

That could not affect her in any way, these 
unpaid bills, — a mere detail. 

In fact, she found fault with everything, 
and her openl3"-expressed dissatisfaction only 
seemed to aggravate Arthur’s feeling of regret. 


High Life. 


183 


The first few days of their arrival, however, 
passed smoothly enough. Both were anxious 
to re-plunge into the vortex of Parisian life, 
the “High Life” with which they had fallen into 
such terrible arrears. At the most, they break- 
fasted at home, but every CA^ning was passed 
at the theater or opera. It was with feelings 
of profound satisfaction, that, after dining at 
Helder’s or Durand’s, they went to see Judic, 
or Theo and Daubray. Only Inez could not 
reconcile herself to the idea of returning in a 
cab. Before this, she had her horses! It was 
humiliating for her to drive round thelake in a 
hired carriage, like any common-place person. 

One evening, after dining together alone, not 
without an interchange of rather sarcastic 
compliments, Arthur, dreading the re-appear- 
ance of “Beggar my Neighbor,” pleaded head- 
ache and rose to go out alone. 

“Where are you going ? ” asked Inez. 

“To get some fresh air.” 

This explanation was sufficient, and com- 
mitted him to nothing. 

He went out, with no particular object in 


184 


High Life. 


view. All he desired Avas to feel himself free, 
to belong to himself as it were. 

This need sometimes makes itself felt b3^ 
newly married men, and, with some, it happens 
pretty frequently. It is a sort of holiday" they 
like to indulge thcmselYCS in, and once safely 
out in the street, an enormous weight seems 
to be lifted from off them. The^^ tread lightly, 
not to sa3^ jauntihq inhale the air more vigor- 
ously", and regard surrounding objects with re- 
newed interest. I have even seen some, who 
yielding to a feeling of rare exhilaration , 
cocked their hat on one side, and humming a 
little air to themselves, kept nodding their 
heads in time, like a Chinese Mandarin. 

This is what Arthur did. After prancing 
along the pavement for a little time, it sud- 
denly occurred to him that this was the fash- 
ionable night for the circus. A cab was pass- 
ing; he hailed it, telling the driver to take him 
there, secretly hoping to meet with some of 
his old chums. This tete-a-tete with his wife 
had lasted such an interminable time! Be- 
sides, for her sake, it was in a measure, his 


High Life. 


185 


duty to renew, and should the oeeasion offer, 
form some new acquaintances. 

The moment he entered, he recognized some 
half dozen of the ladies among the perfoimcrs, 
who saluted him with friendly smiles, and 
later on, during the interlude, they wanted to 
know what had become of him. 

A little surprised that they knew nothing 
about his escapade, he briefly informed them. 
This was not exactly the class of people he 
wished to open his doors to, neither would 
they be particularly anxious to visit, where 
they would be obliged to conform to the 
usages^ of polite society. 

Finding himself alone, after the performance 
was over, under the huge trees of the Avenue 
Gabriel, he began to reflect on the singular 
position in which he had placed himself. On 
one side, respectable people hesitated to ac- 
knowledge his wife, and the others would not 
adapt themselves to her mode of life. 

At first, when Anatole had declined the 
honor of presenting Aglae to the ex-Countess 
d' Aldai'a, he had not attached any impoi- 
tance to his remarks, He had merely though 1 : 


186 


High Life. 


“He is a fool, a narrow-minded idiot ! 

But since his return, he had sent cards to 
people in good position, at whose houses he 
had alwa3^s met with warm welcome, and in 
acknowledgment, he had received invitations, 
which gave him cause for serious reflection. 

The cards sent him, bore the names: 
“ Monsieur and Madame de Fandansec.” 

The invitations sent in return, were simpl3" 
to “Monsieur Arthur de Fandansec” alone. 

“ It is the very devil ! ” said he to himself at 
last. 

He thought and re-thought over the matter, 
pacing sadly up and down the avenue, com- 
paring the present with the past. 

He had been so happy as a bachelor ! Pop- 
ular, sought after by people of all classes, it 
was with diflicult3' he could respond to all the 
invitations heaped upon him. His income of 
twent3^ thousand pounds, amply sufliced for 
all the luxuries, fancies, and even follies, he 
chose to indulge in! He had done as others 
did, even gambled a little ; once, how well he 
remembered it, at the club.... 

Of course! there was his club! Was he still 


High Life. 


187 


a member ? Yes ! Before leaving, he had writ- 
ten to the president, sending in his resignation. 
But, according to club law, the president had 
refused to accept his resignation, so that al- 
though granted unlimited leave, he was placed 
among the category of honorary members, 
until it pleased him to return to Paris. 

In another moment he had hailed a cab. 

^‘Four, Place de V Opera,” he said to the 
driver, with that tone of the man of society, 
which formerly distinguished him. 

No driving was sufficiently rapid to satisf3^ 
his impatience. He experienced a feeling of 
almost boyish delight. The club ! His club ! 
He was saved. What joy and happiness it 
would be to meet all those “fellows” there; 
“choice spirits ” friends, in fact. He was not 
quite sure of their names, it is true, but 
still they were on the mo^ intimate 
terms. Had they not plaj^ed any amount of 
pranks together? Improvised suppers, en- 
gaged brakes, packed with champagne, to go 
to the races ! Had they not played pitch and 
toss together? Ah! these jolly fellows; he 
would soon see them all. Half past eleven 


188 


High Life. 


o’clock ; he was jn^t in the nick of time ! Some 
would be returning from the opera or theatre, 
others had taken their “friends” to some se- 
questered retreat on the Boulevard, while 
another had just arrived on the train by which 
he had run away from Trouville, Dieppe, or 
from Treport. Brandy and soda would be the 
order of the day, stories would go round of 
the upper ten and the “commonplace” people, 
and the inveterate gamblers, while waiting 
the hour for baccarat, would be staking two 
or three hundred louis, on a quiet game of 
ecarte. It would be immense! 

What would they say on seeing him back 
again ? Would they not cheer? 

“Make haste, driver, if you wish for a tip.” 

His feelings were beyond description, as he 
passed the outer gate, where he had been so 
frequently applauded, by his old friends, for the 
skill he displayed in driving his mettlesome 
pair of ponies, and the style with which he 
brought them to a standstill, and threw the 
reins to the groom. 

The porter. Monsieur Jean, good old fellow, 
obliging and anxious to please, did not at first 


High Life. 


189 


know him, and was about to prevent him 
passing, when stiddenly recognizing who he 
was : 

“Monsieur de Fandansec! I beg your 
pardon, sir, I am sure you will excuse me, but 
it is such a long time since we have seen you 
here. And then, sir, 3^ou are not looking quite 
so well ; thin and pale, 3^es, sir, a good deal 
paler. You will excuse my freedom, Monsieur 
de Fandansec ! 

And, solicitous to please, he hastened to save 
Arthur the trouble of ringing the bell for the 
lift. Afterwards, on returning to his wife: 

“It is Monsieur de Fandansec, by Jingo! 
How he has fallen off! He looks ten years 
older, poor unfortunate young man.’’ 

Arthur was obliged to give his card in the 
an te-room , the waiters having all been changed. 
But as soon as it became known who he was, 
the manager ran to welcome him. 

“ During your absence, sir,” said he, “apack- 
age and several letters were left for you. But, 
as you did not leave your address, we put 
them in the drawer where you were in the 
habit of leaving your evening suit.” 


190 


High Life. 


If there had been only letters Arthur would 
have attaehed little or no importance to the 
fact, but the package awoke his curiosity. 
What could it be? Who would be likely to 
send him a package, and what could it pos- 
sibly contain ? 

‘‘Thank 3^011,” said he. “ Give me the key of 
the drawer.” 

Without losing a moment, he hastened to 
the dressing room. 

It was not a very roomy apartment. There 
were two marble wash stands, with taps 
for hot and cold water. Soap, comb, brushes, 
etc., were provided, also a shampooing ap- 
paratus and perfumed spray dispensers. 

All round the room, were wardrobes stained 
in imitation of old oak, each bearing its own 
particular number. 

Arthur’s number was seventeen. He opened 
it quickly. Three dress-shirts, that had grown 
yellow with age, lay a long side of an evening 
suit — plain as perfect taste could dictate — 
trousers, with a band of silk, and waistcoat 
with very open front. 


High Life. 


191 


What happy memories this elegant garb 
called forth ! 

Then this dozen of handkerchiefs, with em- 
broidered monograms ! And these patent 
leather dress boots! And there, carefully 
wrapped up in perfumed paper, were still two 
pairs of straw-colored kids, redolent of iris 
powder, prepared by Guerlain himself!.... 

Meanwhile, he did not waste time. He 
quickly took possession of the letters, but, be- 
fore opening them, he examined the handwrit- 
ing. It is a singular mania, but since we all 
indulge in it, no blame can be attached to him. 
There was nothing of importance in these let- 
ters: pressing invitations from those very 
houses, where now he would be received if un- 
accompanied by his wife. 

He crushed them up with a feeling of con- 
tempt. 

There was still the parcel : what could it be, 
so carefully wrapped up and sea<ed? He tore 
off one wrapper after another of tissue paper. 
It must be something of value or at least 
something demanding careful handling. Curi- 
osity got the better of him. Another moment. 


192 


High Life. 


and he tore it open, discovering a small frame 
in Russian leather, ornamented with a mono- 
gram. A silver spring projected ; he pressed 
it, and discovered a colored photograph under 
a glass cover, in a frame of blue velvet, sur- 
mounted by a Count’s coronet. 

In one corner he discovered some writing : — 
“ To Gustave, who knows so well 

^‘InezT 

^‘Gustave?” Why Gustave? and why send 
him the portrait — to him, Fandansec, whose 
name was Arthur?” 

Ah ! some revenge of the Count’s, perhaps. 

A very pitiful revenge, and most contempt- 
ible. But no ; that could not be. The Count’s 
name was Antonio ! There was no similarity 
between the names of Gustave and Antonio. 
Well, then, whose could it be? 

One can imagine what a vast field of con- 
jecture was opened up by the receipt of this 
parcel. An enigma which, when solved, prom- 
ised bitter disappointment. 

One could hardly credit it. But after the first 
moment of blind rage, a sort of vague hope 


High Life. 


193 


appeared to possess him, and exereised an ex- 
hilarating eifeet on his spirits. It seemed to 
him that he was now provided with a weapon, 
or, to put it less tragieally, a means of eseape. 

It may be all very well to elope with a lady, 
who, neeessaril}", being a lady, was legally 
bound to the man who was her husband; and 
it is to be hoped, if only out of mere delieaey of 
feeling, that he remained true to her, even 
after the first glow of enthusiasm had eooled 
down. She has saerificed her rank, the opin- 
ion of the world, in faet eveiwthing. The 
least he ean do is to offer her what equivalent 
lies in his power. But if there is a “ Gustave’’ 
in the question, that throws a very different 
light on the subjeet. 

“I know perfectly well what she will say: 
Excuse me, that happened before we met; wh3" 
should 3^ou be so susceptible on the subject? ” 

And it would appear to her as altogether 
illogical, as it was outrageous, to waste a 
thought on what had taken place so long ago. 

But by Jove ! She might say what she liked ! 
Whether she chose to understand or not, what- 
ever she might find illogical or unreasonable, it 


194 


High Life. 


was all the same to him, the fact remained! 
And Arthur discerned sufficient reason why 
their union should be, if not altogether dis- 
solved, — unfortunately the civil authorities 
had put their veto on that — at all events, af- 
ford him a pretty good pretext for loosening 
on his side, any ties which might bind him too 
strictly, to this very indulgent wife of his. 

Meanwhile, after cursing himself up hill and 
down dale, for the blind obstinac^^ with which 
he had pursued, without allowing himself time 
to reflect, this mad desire to run awa^^ with 
the Countess, he swore he would never again 
yield to a first impulse. Very quietly he re- 
placed the portrait, and carefully locked the 
drawer, deciding not to think of it again, un- 
til the following da3^ 

Having made up his mind finally on this 
point, he adjourned to the card-room. 

He was doomed to disappointment even 
there. They scareely noticed him. It was 
true baccarat had begun, and they were play- 
ing for very heavy stakes. With regular club 
goers, nothing counts on such occasions. Loss 
or gain. Nothingexists outside this pre-occupa- 


High Life. 


105 


tion ; tlie house might be set on fire, they 
would not interrupt the game. At the most, 
one or two remarked : 

“Hello! Fandansec.’’ 

But no one asked where he had come from, 
what he had been about, whether he had 
returned for good, or whether he was only 
passing through. A very different reception 
from the hurrahs he had anticipated . 

A doctor standing near him remarked : 

“You have been ill?’’ 

“I? no, doctor, never was better in my life.” 

“You must have been ill, my dear fellow, 
any one can see it.” 

“ How?” 

your face.” 

“I look like a person who has been ill?” 

“ Yes ; thin, eyes dull and sunken. You have 
been ill, it is evident.” 

“Upon my word, that is putting it too 
strong.” 

“Without your knowledge, of course; that 
often happens. Take care of yourself, my good 
fellow!” 


196 


High Life. 


“You are a nice specimen,” said Arthur to 
himself. 

At the same time he remembered that Jean, 
the porter, had said much the same thing. 
Was it possible he had changed so much? 

He seated himself at the table. Some one 
who stood behind him, and had to reach over 
his shoulder to put down his stake, knocked 
against him with his elbow. 

•‘I beg 3^our pardon,” he said. 

“It is nothing,” rejDlied Arthur, turning 
round. 

“What!” said the other, in a tone of sur- 
X)rise ; “is it you, 1113^ dear fellow ?” 

“Swenska! ” said Arthur, shaking his hand. 

“I’ll be hanged if I would have recognized 
3^ou!” added the Prince. 

“ Oh ! 3^011 only saw the top of my head.” 

“Prccisel3"! Ah! your hair is getting thin, 
my dear boy; have you been ill?” 

Arthur was struck with this coincidence, and 
his temper began to rise. If he returned home 
with this on his mind, he would be unable to 
sleep ; so he decided to remain where he was. 
Cards would help to divert him, so he played. 


High Life. 


197 


At four o’clock in the morning, as he had lost 
not a little, he took the bank, hoping to redeem 
his fortune. But it was late ; a good many of 
the winners had withdrawn from the table. 

The Prince had lost j)retty heavily, and 
wished to remain, while a friend of his tried to 
dissuade him, whieh led to a little dispute be- 
hind Arthur’s chair. 

“Don’t play against your luck!” repeated 
the friend. “Besides, within the last few min- 
utes, you played recklessly. Come home and 
go to bed !” 

“Presently.” 

“Very well, then ; good night.” 

“No! wait a moment. I will make two 
bets and then go with 3^011, on 1113^ honor!” 

The friendly adviser refused to listen, and 
left the room. 

A moment later he came back with his over- 
coat and hat on. 

“Come, now,” he cried from the door, “you 
are going; it is stupid! Come at onee, Gus- 
tave!” 

“Gustave!” 

At this name Arthur .started. He suddenK^ 


19S 


High Lrffi. 


remembered that the prince had been an inti- 
mate friend of the Count’s, and a frequent 
visitor at the Rue Balzac. He had even heard 
it whispered that the Count was jealous of 
him. And then, the prince had bought the 
entire villa as it stood, immediately after the 
disappearance of Inez ! 

And his name was Gustave ? 

Utterly bewildered, Arthur drew a seven on 
a five, although he had given a picture card 
to the ace, and a nine to the two ; which 
caused a loss for him, on both sides, of thirty- 
nine thousand francs. This is what is called 
the ‘‘banker’s coup.” 

Arthur, of course, ought to have been the 
winner by this classic coup. His sequence was 
according to rule, five, against both sides, 
which, in order to ask for a card, ought only 
to have Bacca, one, two, three, four, or five at 
the maximum. When Arthur, we repeat it, 
gave a picture card to the ace, which did not 
alter the stake of that side, a nine to the two, 
which lessened by one the original value of 
the other, the proper play then for the banker, 
was not to draw, since in keeping his five, he 


tiiGH Life. 


199 


risked at the most, to be equal with one of 
the sides. 

However, he had drawn, and thus reduced 
him self to two 

Those around could not understand it. 

^‘He has lost his head they said one to the 
other. 

The truth was, that he foresaw difficulties, 
and, without giving his attention to what was 
passing, although it was costing him so much, 
he muttered to himself : 

Gustave looking wildly around, some- 
times at the table, and sometimes at the pal- 
lid countenance of the Prince, who, thanks to 
this last coup, was retrieving some of his 
previous losses, and appeared inclined to jeer 
Arthur. 

At half past nine on the following morning, 
M. de Fandansec, left the club, minus the sum 
of seventy-six thousand francs. 

His face looked a yard long, complexion 
green, hands clammy, linen discolored, clothes 
impregnated with the odor of stale tobacco, 
hair in disorder, and in addition to all this, 


200 


High Life. 


one ot those racking headaches which seems to 
tear you all to pieces. 

Furious, pitiful and ridiculous in his own 
e3^es, he threw himself into a cab, gave his ad- 
dress at Passy, and sunk into a corner of the 
vehicle, two impressionsappearing to predom- 
inate in his tortured brain. 

One being : 

Gustave.’^ 

And the other: 

“And this is “High Life.’^ 

At last, confounding one with the other, he 
sank into a state of half unconsciousness, mur- 
muring with a sigh : 

“ If I had only known ! 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE TWO HUSBANDS OF MADAME INEZ. 

When a man has committed a great blunder, 
distinctly acknowledged as such, and by dint 
of having to pay the costs of his folly, is con- 
strained to own the disagreeable fact to him- 
self, it happens that, according to the influ- 
ences by which he is surrounded, or the mood 
in which he may happen to be, he either breaks 
the chains which bind him, sending everj^ con- 
sideration to the devil, or, and this is the case 
most usually adopted, weakly succumbs to the 
inevitable and allows himself to float down 
with the tide, hoping, like the great Micawber, 
that something will turn up, to rescue him 
from the fruits of his own folly. 

Arthur hesitated for a long time which of 
these two courses he should pursue. So long, 
indeed, that there was nothing left for him but 
to adopt the first expedient. 


202 


High Lif^. 


Like all unexpected blows, those whicli occur 
in private life have their decisive moments; 
but, if that decisive moment is lost, then every- 
thing is missed. 

In Arthur’s case, the opportunity had pre- 
sented itself with this portrait, and with the 
autograph dedicating it to “Gustave.” An- 
other would not have hesitated; that very 
day, he would have placed it before the eyes of 
the ex-Countess, and demanded : 

“What is this?” 

And if she had taken refuge in excuses, by 
demanding in a still more imperious manner: 

“No more subterfuge! In one word, what 
does it mean, clearly and distinctly, if you 
please? ” 

The least that could hare happened would 
have been a scene, accompanied by tears, pro- 
testations, clenching of teeth, gaspings for 
breath, fainting fits, real or assumed, re- 
proaches, defiances, etc. In one word, all that 
constitutes a complete programme in such a 
case, and which the poet so graphically de- 
scribes as a cloud passing along the blue hori- 
zon of conjugal love. 


iliGH ttlPB. 


203 


Ah, well! What more cotild a man, deter- 
mined to break with a woman, reasonably 
desire ? 

Any woman, however wantingin self-respect, 
would display indignation at having such a 
grave accusation brought against her. The 
looker-on, this superior being, of whom so 
much is said in novels, but who is never seen, 
the looker-on, I say, judiciously remarks, that 
the really guilty woman is the one to display 
the greatest amount of indignation. A circum- 
stance all the more favorable. Is it not so? 
From being angry, she becomes aggressive, 
bringing acciasations in her turn, heaping re- 
proaches on his head, and loading him with 
invective. 

Upon which, you can imagine him for your- 
self. This man, determined to sever the bonds 
that weigh so heavily upon him, assumes the 
dignity which is the natural appurtenance of 
one of the “Lords of Creation,’^ and, rushing 
from the room with wild looks — not, however, 
forgetting to take his hat I — cries in a changed 


voice : 


204 


High Life. 


“Ah ! let me leave this cursed spot, or some- 
thing terrible will happen !” 

And then a rush is made after him, a search 
is made! 

This invariably succeeds; and, as 3"Ou see, is 
not too complicated. 

Arthur’s inclinations, however, tended in the 
opposite direction. He was vacillating, and 
deficient in moral courage, and was alwa3'S in 
dread of doing something that was not quite 
right. Of course, there had been a “ Gustave ; ” 
but what “Gustave?” Before speaking of him, 
he would like to learn a few more particulars; 
to have some certainty as to who he really 
was; so many men were called “ Gustave!” 

Also, when tired of searching, he resolved to 
drive the Countess into a a corner. It was too 
late to play the little farce described above. 
Irritated and anno3^ed at his own failure to 
discover anything more convincing about this 
“ Gustave,” he accepted the first excuse offered. 

“ Gustave? ” said Inez in the most ingenuous 
manner. “ He is my brother, my poor brother, 
who, when quite young, was a helpless wit- 
ness of the Count’s unwarrantable outrage; 


High Life. 


2(5 


my dear brother Gustave, the chosen confidant 
of all my sorrows, and who, on arriving at 
manhood wished to avenge the wrongs I had 
suffered, and with whom I had to exert my 
utmost influence to dissuade from such a 
course, before I could prove to him, that for 
the honor of our family, it was better to let 
matters rest as they were!....” 

‘‘And where then is this brother, of whom 
mention has never been made before?” asked 
Arthur. 

“Probably in Oceanica,” replied the Count- 
ess. “At least, if he is not snowed up some- 
where near the North Pole, for he is a daring 
navigator, whose ambition it is to discover 
the free passage beyond the frozen zone.” 

Go and write to such an address, to discover 
the truth of what she said! Who could say 
whether this brother-in-law of his might not 
be frozen between two icebergs ? 

The only thing to do, was to appear to be- 
lieve her. For some time Arthur still kept 
watch, not despairing of being able to sur- 
prise his wife, in some little act of deception. 


206 


High Life. 


Vain hope! Everything tended to confirm the 
truth of her statement. 

Still clinging to his first supposition, Arthur 
brought the Prince to see Inez, thinking that 
sooner or later they would betray themselves. 
But whatever secret understanding may have 
existed between them, nothing happened to 
strengthen his suspicions. 

Inez on her side, had renewed her acquaint- 
ance with the Baroness d’ losk, and as was 
the case in former times, she came daily to see 
her dear friend.” 

One evening when the Baroness had dined 
at Pass3q and while she was emplo3^ed in mix- 
ing a “gloria” for herself in the drawing- 
room, she said to the Countess: 

“By the b3^e, dear, what news have 3^011 of 
your brother Gustave ? Has he discovered the 
passage to the North Pole 3"et ? ” 

It was true, then, and there really was a 
brother of that name 1 

Ever3^thing wears out in time, and this ques- 
tion of Gustave gradually dropped. 

Still there was the fact of this portrait hav- 
ing been sent to Arthur at his club, which still 


High Life. 


207 


remained unaccounted for. According to the 
ex-Countess, it was purely a piece of villainy 
on the part of the Count d’ Aldaia, the under- 
hand proceeding of a discarded rival; an un- 
worthy vengeance; the act of an uneducated 
savage ; of one beneath contempt, neither 
more nor less. 

How unraA^el the truth from all this ? There 
was mixed up with it, perhaps, a certain taint 
of foreign feminine duplicity, which one so in- 
stinctively distrusts ; but it is so wearisome to 
be always on the watch ! In the end, one be- 
comes as it were, acclimatized to all these dif- 
ferent temperatures, as one becomes accus- 
tomed to different situations, were they a 
hundred times equivocal. 

Arthur ended by deciding that, for his own 
peace of mind, it was better to accept things 
as they were; and so far as appearances went, 
his dignity was saved. 

Besides, he had so many other cares which 
weighed heavily on him ! So many causes of 
anxiety, which kept him awake for hours toss- 
ing restlessly on his weary couch. 

It was this, that however simple their style 


208 


High Life. 


of living might seem to the fair Inez, their ex- 
penses far exceeded his income. Every month 
Arthur had to intrench on his capital, and he 
was forced to think of the day when he would 
not have a penny to bless himself with ! 

For a long time past, this had been a source 
of endless anxiety, and tortured him to such 
an extent, that he became a victim to in- 
somnia. This was followed by extreme pros- 
tration, and as some poor shipwrecked cast- 
away, paralyzed by cold, will allow himself to 
float helplessly to his doom, worn out by a 
hopeless struggle against such all powerful 
elements, he shut his eyes resolutely, and 
abandoned himself to the current, saying: 

^‘So much the worse ! ’’ 

Far from putting a curb on their extrava- 
gance, he rushed headlong into fresh expenses, 
and threw caution to the winds. 

Let us go it, this ‘ High Life ! ^ A short life 
and a merry one, is the motto for those who 
have spent their all.” 

He almost hailed poverty as a means of de- 
liverance. Would this woman resign herself 
to it? Perhaps! No, never, in all her life! 


High Life. 


209 


What then ? Would she leave him ? For God’s 
sake make haste then, and waste no more 
time ! 

He had conceived a strong prejudice against 
lier, and she exasperated him to the last de- 
gree; he could not bear even to think other. 

Ah! why had these sujipicions about Gustave, 
not been better founded ? Why, oh why, had 
she not afforded him a good pretext for a sep- 
aration ? What was she afraid of? His 
anger? Ah! no indeed, he would have re- 
joiced with all his heart, and there and then, 
even if he had to sacrifice his watch, he would 
have taken the first train back to Arles, glad 
to take refuge in some corner of the chateau of 
Bicheterre, even including the penalty of listen-, 
ing to endless lectures. 

Ah ! Bicheterre ! Ah ! the Canoness ! Ah ! the 
l^icaceful repose to be enjoyed under the Aegis 
of his venerated ancestors ! Ah ! what a lost 
paradise ! 

But that was a dream ; it was too much to 
hope for, too delightful, too good; it could 
never happen. No, his own idiocy, had con- 
demned him to “High Life.” You longed to 


210 


High Life. 


have a taste of it, my boy, and now you must 
drink the bitter cup to the dregs. 

“ High Life,” what a farce it all was ! What 
was there in it worth having? 

Looking at it philosophically, the sharpness 
of his sufferings enabled him to realize more 
clearly all the littleness and emptiness of this 
kind of existence. The club, cards, showy 
toilettes, suppers, the whole vocabulary ad hoCy 
races, steeple-chases, watering-places, seaside 
and roulette, Monte-Carlo, and the eternal 
Bordeaux of the Cafe Anglais, he had had 
enough of it, he turned sick at the remember- 
ance of it all. 

It was impossible to set himself free. It re- 
quired an amount of energ}^, of which he was 
incapable. 

It would necessitate his encountering the 
grand airs of the Countess d’ Aldaia, listening 
to her reproaches, struggling, disputing. Ah ! 
horrors ! 

It seemed easier to him to run the gauntlet, 
and plunge headlong into the ab3^ss towards 
which his first steps had hurried him. 

One day in autumn, the Baron d’ losk pro- 


High Life. 


211 


posed to go to Chantilly for the last race of 
the season. 

The Baron had his four-in-hand that he 
drove in first-class style. The Baroness had a 
good appetite, but did not care to eat, unless 
she could drink ; and had a rare talent for pro- 
viding an al iresco lunch that would tempt 
the most rigid anchorite. The invitation was 
a tempting one. 

“What do 3^ou think of it, Arthur?^’ asked 
the Countess. 

“Who? I!’^ he replied. “You need not 
trouble yourself about my wishes in the mat- 
ter. Drag me to Chantilly, or any other place, 
it is all the same to me. Decide for yourself. 
Get your dress ready, and as there will be 
something you will inevitably want, make 
haste and get it.” 

For some time past she had ceased to notice 
Arthur’s fits of moodiness. 

“How he has changed!” they remarked 
from time to time. 

“Pay no attention to him, it is his nature. 
He is not fitted to be a man of the world; 

‘ High Life’ is too much for him.” 


212 


High Life. 


“It is most singular/’ observed the baroness, 
“but he reminds me very much of the Count. 
He is growing very like him. His clothes seem 
to hang on him. His cheeks are hollow, his 
e3^es heavy, and his hair is actually turning 
white. Ah! dear friend, how unfortunate for 
you.” 

It was Inez they pitied. 

However that might be, they decided to go 
to Chantilly, and the Countess, who, like a 
woman, had declared at the last moment, 
that she had “nothing fit to wear,” — it is the 
accepted formula, — profited by the three days 
yet remaining before Sunday, to order herself 
a little costume, very simple, of course, but 
which could not fail to attract the notice of 
the betting ring. 

A very select spot, this betting ring! All 
sportsmen, besides being stock brokers, jock- 
e^^s, trainers, grooms, pimps, and card sharp- 
ers, and all impregnated with an odor of the 
stable, that was unmistakable. 

Under the shade of a temporary awning, the 
descendants of the best families in France, and 
other countries, were mixed up with Parisian 


High Life. 


213 


Jewelers, coco ties y actresses, broken-down 
gamblers, and blacklegs, forming a heteroge- 
neous mass of excited bettors, shouting out 
the odds, and laying and accepting wagers on 
their favorites, in tones that made the air 
vibrate with the din : 

‘‘Three to one, bar one!” 

“Two to one on the field!” 

“Six to four against Frisette!” 

“Five to four against Elastique!” etc., etc. 

Frisette, Elastique, ReinedeSouplesse, Balda- 
quin, are the names of the horses which are to 
run. There are others, upon which they bet 
furiously ; but these are the favorites. In this 
very mixed mob, some English jocke3^s may be 
s^en, with their orthodox peaked caps, on 
which perspiration and dust have traced 
marks of a rather grotesque design, walking 
their horses about the paddock, swearing in 
their own peculiar and barbarously disagree- 
able idiom. 

Lower down the course, the petty tradesman 
smokes his rank two-penny cigar, and ogles 
the ladies in the grandstand, through his hired 
. opera-glass. At the buffet, they crowd forward 


214 


High Life. 


to drink bottled Bass, or dr3^ champagne. The 
cocottes ape the lady, and the ladies ape the 
cocottes; they flirt as much as the^" can; little 
dinners are organized in parties, at the Monlin- 
Rouge, and at Yoisin, with a little bac to finish 
lip with. 

In passing, you hear slang terms, ribald jests, 
drunken oaths, loud laughs ‘‘which speak the 
vacant mind,” and, high above the din, the 
voice of a flower girl, who never ceases to cry : 

“Flowers for your button-hole, gents! Six- 
pence for my little bouquets !” 

Avery select spot, this betting ring! A prom- 
ised land, where the student longs to show 
himself with his own chosen companions, as 
soon as he has passed his first step on the 
spring-board which will land him in the full 
swing of “High Life.” 

In the thickest part of the crowd, and look- 
ing over the heads of those surrounding him, 
stood the tall, Albinian figure of the Prince 
iSwenska, betting heavily on every race. It 
was his forte ; he gave the odds against all the 
horses. The system is well known, and, like 


Migh Life. 


215 


all betting s^^stems, it has its risks; but the 
Prince come off well. 

As the bell announced the first race, the bet- 
ting ceased, and the Prince once more mingled 
with the crowd, and made his way to the 
grand stand. 

“A rose, my Prince?’^ said the flower girl, 
stopping him. 

“Don't bother me, ’’replied Swenska. “They 
make my head ache.” 

“You can offer it to my old mistress!” 
boldly added the girl, insinuating a rose into 
his buttonhole. 

The Prince looked at her. 

“What!” said he, “is it 3^ou, Fulgence? You 
would not stay with me when I purchased the 
Villa d’Aldaia. You wished to start in busi- 
ness for yourself, then ?” 

“Judge for yourself. Prince.” 

“Perhaps you have lost by it?” 

“Bah ! I have what I recjuire, my lord. And 
then, you thought so much of my mistress, 
that I did it to discourage you.” 

The Prince, who had, perhaps, his own pri- 
vate reasons, smiled complaisantly. 


216 


High Life. 


“I have just seen her/’ said the flower girl. 
“She is still the same, imposing and ro^^al, as 
she alwa3"s was.” 

“Whom do you mean?” 

“Whom? Why, Madame!” 

“The Countess?” 

“Madame de Fandansec, j^es.” 

“She is here, at Chantilly ; are 3"ou sure?” 

“I have just seen her, seated in the front row 
of the grand stand, near the Baroness, while 
her husband passes his time between the bet- 
ting ring and the buffet.” 

“The devil!” said the Prince, with some ap- 
pearance of anxiety. 

Suddenl3^ leaving Fulgence, he hastened to 
where she had said the two ladies were seated. 

He bowed to them, offered his rose to Inez, 
and asked where Arthur was to be found. 

“Somewhere over there,” replied the bar- 
oness. He came with us in the break, but the 
open air made him very thirsty, and he went in 
so strongly for champagne, that my husband 
advised him to take some seltzer.” 

The Prince made her a little sign to speak to 
her privatdjr. 


High Lire. 


217 


“What is the matter?” asked the Baroness, 
in a low voiee. 

“Make some exense to get away from the 
Countess/’ replied Swenska, in the same tone. 
“I have something serious to tell you.” 

“Wait a moment,” she replied. 

Presently , seeing Inez surrounded by a circle 
of youthful admirers, each one surpassing the 
other in their general get-up, she rose,, and, tak- 
ing the Prince’s arm : 

“ I will return in a moment,” said she to the 
Countess. 

Then, after taking a few steps : 

“What is it all about. Prince?” 

“Just think, my dear Baroness. This morn- 
ing as I was taking my ticket at the station, I 
heard some people talking loudly behind me, 
one of them pushed against me, and I turned 
around and recognized — whom ? Guess ! ’ ’ 

“How could I guess?” 

“I will give you a thousand chances !” 

“Do tell me at once!” 

“The Count!” 

“What Count? There are crowds of tliem 


here.” 


218 


High Life. 


Inez’s first husband !” 

Aldaia?” 

‘‘The same!” 

The Baroness remained stupefied. 

“Where was he going?” she asked, after a 
moment of shocked surprise. 

“ He was coming here 1” 

•‘To Chantilly?” 

“ He has a horse running. He has just pur- 
chased the stud of that Frankfort banker who 
became bankrupt in such a fraudulent manner, 
and whom they caught cheating at the club.” 

“Oh!” cried the Baroness, “what does this 
mean? But do continue, I beg of you, and tell 
me all you know. Did he speak to you?” 

“He shook hands, American fashion, with 
me so heartily, that he almost dislocated my 
arm, and I could not avoid finishing the rest 
of the trip with him.” 

“He did not mention his wife or Arthur?” 

“Not a word! That is what alarms me 
most. Major Berninii was with him, and both 
seemed to have lunched generously. The Count 
had engaged a coupe; and sandwiches, whisky, 
and cards were the order of the day. 


High Life. 


219 


“All! my God!” 

“They drank and pla^^ed during the whole 
journey. The Major was in a vein of luck — 
never in my life have I seen such a run of luck 
in ecarte! With a sequence of eleven, he turned 
up the king at each deal. I even think that 
the second last time he marked it twice, by 
oversight, of course, so strong was the vein. 

“At the same time that he was getting 
cleaned out of enormous sums, the Count gave 
me an account of what had happened to him, 
after he sold the villa. 

“It had only been necessary to show him- 
self at the mine, in order to quell the revolt, 
fermented by his overseer. Meeting him face 
to face at the entrance, the Count shot him 
dead by way of saying good morning, upon 
which the others threw themselves at his feet, 
welcoming him as their deliverer. Without 
even waiting for his orders, they siezed three 
other leaders and hanged them to the nearest 
tree; and then brought all the gold that had 
been stored up to that time, to the Count. 

“Upon my faith, he did not deal too severely 
with them after that, but in order to nm' e 


220 


High LiFfi. 


sure of his pOvsitioii, lie passed the best part ol 
a 3"ear at the mine. It seems to have agreed 
with him ; 3" on wonld hardh^know him, Baron- 
ess. He is ereet, has a good eolor, looks happ3^ 
and is altogether overflowing with health and 
good spirits; in faet, a eomplete transforma- 
tion has taken place.” 

The Baroness listened not knowing what to 
think or what to say. Thunderstruck at what 
she foresaw might be the consequences of a 
meeting between this man and poor Arthur. 

All the more as this poor Arthur was suffer- 
ing from the effects of too much champagne. 

“At an3" cost,” at last said this excellent 
woman, “we must prevent them meeting. 
Come Prince, we must first warn my j)oor 
“ dear friend,” Inez.” 

As they turned to rejoin the Countess, they 
met the Baron. 

In a few words they acquainted him with 
what had happened, and the young man 
turned pale. 

They hastened to Inez. 

“My dear,” said the Baroness excitedly, in- 
terrupting the amiable flirtation in which she 


High Life. 


221 


was engaged. “My clear, we must find 
Arthur, and take him away from here imme- 
diately.” 

“Why?” said she smilingly. “Has he got 
himself into some new trouble? Bah! 1 
shall get accustomed to it in time, these pro- 
vincials never do an^^thing else.” 

“Don’t laugh Countess.” 

“No ! ” added the Prince. “ Rather summon 
all your courage.” 

“ What ! Has any misfortune happened ? ” 

“An irreparable one might happen ! ” 

“ Please explain ! ” 

“Poor woman! what a terrible blow for 
3'Ou! ” 

“ But yet ? ” 

“Very well, my dear, the Count is here, at 
Chantilly, in the betting ring. Perhaps only 
two steps away.” 

“Monsieur d’Aldaia!” said Inez terrified. 
“Antonio? Antonio d’Aldaia! Here! Ah! 
my God ! my God ! If Monsieur de Fandan- 
sec meets him! You are right. Look for 
Arthur, find him, and bring him here, whether 
he wishes it or not ; this might end terribly ! ” 


222 


High Life. 


During this time, the effects of the cham- 
pagne not having 3"et worn off, Arthur had 
seated himself in a sheltered spot apart from 
the crowd. No one being near he indulged in a 
soliloquy. 

^‘How stupid they are with their seltzer 
water! I’m not ill; I’m miserable, that’s 
about all; miserable because I have lost my 
illusions.... and two thirds of my fortune.” 

On the other side of a thicket, which half 
concealed him from view, he saw his wife, com- 
ing towards him, accompanied by the Baron. 
Not wishing to attract attention, they walked 
slowly, looking carefully in every direction, 
and at the same time trying to conceal their 
anxiety. 

“Courting admiration, as usual,” said Ar- 
thur to himself “Howl detest the way she 
walks, looking on all sides of her to see if any 
one notices her. Oh! how she irritates me! 
No one can know.” 

The others seemed to be discouraged at the 
fruitlessness of their search. They passed close 
to the thicket. 


High Life. 


223 


“Where is he? Where can he have gone?” 
exclaimed the Countess. 

“She is looking for me thought Arthur “to 
plague me to death, and make an old man of 
me! Go on looking! Go on !....! am fortunate 
in esca^Ding even for a moment,” and he with- 
drew further into the shade. 

The sudden shock, and consequent emotion, 
had proved too much for Inez. There were 
some chairs placed near, happily somewhat 
removed from the vulgar gaze, and she sank, 
almost fainting, into one of them. 

“Ah!” said she. “Leave me to m3^self a 
moment. I cannot restrain my tears an\^ 
longer. Good heavens ! is it possible that my 
first husband is on the grounds, and that my 
second ma^^ meet him at any moment!” 

Fandansec had been Hstening, and the ap- 
prehensions of . the miserable woman being 
confirmed by the answering remarks of the 
others, he ^deldcd to an irresistable feeling, 
and sprang towards the group, separated from 
him by onl3^ a few branches. 

“What is that you were saying?” cried he. 
“That the Count d ’ Aldaia is here ? ” 


High Life. 


224 

“Alas!” 

Arthur smiled bitterly. 

“At last!” said he, with a sigh of relief, and 
plaeing his hat a little more to one side. “At 
last we shall have the pleasure of seeing this 
gentleman, this fire eater, who has failed to 
put in an appearanee for eighteen months. 
Where is he, this brilliant bully ? I am listen- 
ing, but fail to hear the elashing of his aveng- 
ing armor! Perhaps some one has warned 
him that I am here, and he has thought it pru- 
dent to withdraw.” 

“ He is tipsy ! ” said the Prinee, in alow voiee, 
looking troubled. 

“Come, eome, my dear fellow,” said the 
Baron, eoming forward, and adopting a gen- 
tleman-like tone of authority. “Be ealm, if 
3^ou please, and don’t waste any more time in 
mere bravado. It is onl^^ too true what you’ve 
heal'd . The Count d ’Aldaia is here, and 3^011 
ought, if only for deeeney’s sake, and for the 
safety of your wife, to leave the plaee.” 

“I?” roared Arthur. “Hide m3^self ? What 
do you take me for ? Upon my word, gentle- 
men, you make me doubt your claim to be 


High Life. 


225 


considered noblemen. What! Do you sup- 
pose a Fandansee eould run away? Never! 
do you hear? I eame from the eountry of 
Arles, and you will soon see what that means. 
Come, let us go and find this little gentleman.” 

“He has pluek enough and no mistake,” said 
the Baron, speaking aloud his thoughts. 

“ Undoubtedly,” added the Prinee. “At the 
same time, my good fellow, have you sufii- 
eiently refleeted ? ” 

“About what ? ” 

“Of the probable intentions of the Count? 
A man of his eharaeter ean have only one ob- 
jeet in view, with regard to the Countess.” 

“ And what may that be ? ” 

“To take her from you ! ” 

“You believe, my dear fellow, on your word 
of honor,” said Arthur, gradually regaining 
his self-possession, “that he ean have no other 
objeet in view ? ” 

“ Damn it all ! Put yourself in his place, and 
think what you would do?” 

Arthur appeared embarrassed. 

“Oh! I!.... I!...” said he, suddenly becoming 
reserved, “that is quite a different matter. 


15 


226 


High Life. 


But if Monsieur d ’Aldaia intends calling me 
to account in any way, as a gentleman, you 
cannot expect me to admit the idea of con- 
cealing m3^self from him for one moment. No, 
gentlemen, a thousand times no! descent 

dates as far back as 3^ours, and my duty is 
plain: to wait for him unflinchingly.” 

“Yes, that is plucky,” repeated the Baron. 

But Arthvir accepted the compliment with 
indifference. 

“To my mind there is no pluck in it,” re- 
marked he, simply. “ It is only what 3^011 owe 
to 3^ourself. Besides, what is it ? Only a thrust 
of the sword — nothing more — a fine thing! ” 

“Do you know how to fence?” asked the 
Prince. 

“Do I know how to fence? ” retorted the de- 
scendant ofBicheterre andPandansec. “From 
m3^ birth, my dear fellow. Among people of 
my rank, from my birth, rest assured ! ” 

“Yet.” 

“Yet what?” and whirling round his cane 
like a mill wheel : 

“That is the sort of thing, is it not?” ad- 
ded he. 


High Life. 


227 


^^That! like that! Yes! when one knows 
nothing about it ! ’’ 

“But undoubtedly it is true heroism on his 
part/^ said theBaron; “for it is plain he is not 
afraid of anything, the unfortunate young 
fellow ! “ 

“ Great heavens ! “ retorted Fandansec with 
great dignity, “ what is a duel after all ? Tra- 
dition says: The judgment of God! 1 have 
confidence in the justice of my own cause! 
Besides, the most awkward are the most dan- 
gerous, I have heard ; it is an acknowledged 
fact. Let him come, this boaster. I am ready 
for, him and.... you will then see what a Fan- 
dansec is capable of, and how affairs of honor 
are conducted with us.’’ 

If the Baron admired him, and though the 
Prince looked giim, Inez simply regarded Ar- 
thur as a fool. It was well to talk of the 
“justice of your cause’’ and the “judgment of 
God,” but she knew well what a finished fencer 
the Count was, and in her opinion, her second 
husband could not escape* being skewered like 
a chicken. So she also insisted on his de- 


228 


High Life. 


parture. But her husband did not even listen, 
rejDtating : 

“What does Monsieur d’ Aldaia wish ? To 
take you from me? Well! let him come; by 
all means let him come ! It is exactly what I 
have been wishing for.’^ 

Seeing that there was no means of dissuad- 
ing him, the Baroness whispered to Inez, that 
a, any rate, the Count ought not to find her 
with Arthur; it might exasperate her first 
husband to fury. 

Both the Baron and the Prince were of the 
same opinion. 

“Yes, yes, take her away! It would be 
more prudent. Leave Fandansec to us ; we will 
not leavehim, so as to be at hand to interfere, or 
assist him, if things turn out badly? Should a 
duel take place, and the unfortunate and brave 
young fellow get a sword through him, trust 
him to our honor and experience. Baroness, 
we will see to the arrangement of everything.’^ 

Strengthened by these assurances, she pre- 
vailed on Inez to accompany her, while Arthur 
supported by his friends, one on each side, 
mixed with the crowd. 


High Life. 


229 


While all this was taking place, the race had 
been run. Frisette and the other favorites 
had been easily beaten by Motile a rank 
outsider, that was not even mentioned in the 
betting, causing heavy losses to some of the 
heaviest backers, while the bookmakers reaped 
a rich harvest. The excitement had reached a 
great height, and disputes ran high on all 
sides. Accusations were brought against cer- 
tain jockeys of connivance in the matter, when 
the bell announced the beginning of the next 
race. 

And the same bettors renewed their old 
course, elbowing each other, shouting out the 
names of their favorites, and taking volumin- 
ous notes, while the bookmakers re-commenced 
calling out in stentorian tones: 

“Two to one on the field;” Three to one 
bar one,” etc., etc.... 

“A flower for 3 ^our buttonhole, gents! six- 
pence for my small bouquets 1 ” 

At the same moment that the horses, canter- 
ing down the track attracted all e^^es, Arthur 
and his friends appeared on the side of the 
buffet, and with one accord had come to a 


2S0 


High LiFfi. 


standstill; the Count Aldaia was not ten 
paces ahead of them ! 

Fresh looking, happ}^ in excellent spirits, 
and arrayed in rather youthful garments, he 
was seated with the major at a small table, 
on which were some empty bottles of pale ale. 
They were laughing and talking together. 
The flower girl, having descried them, ap- 
Xoroached and offered a rose to the Count. 

He instantly recognized her. 

“What ! is it you, my girl ! “ said he. “ Ah ! 
3' ou look astonished ; you don’t recognize me, 
then?” 

“My lord has greatly improved in health.” 

“The effects of good behavior, little one,” 
added he, chucking her under the chin. 

“What bad form,” said Arthur. 

“Give me a rose,” continued the Count, 
throwing her a louis, “ and since you are estab- 
lished in business, I will promise you my cus- 
tom. You will bring me a flower in the morn- 
ing, Fulgence, at the same price?” 

“I beg your pardon, my lord, but I don’t 
deliver in town m^^self.” 

“There you make a great mistake, my 


High Life. 


231 


beauty ! And to think I never discovered your 
beauty in the old times !” 

“This man can have only one excuse,’^ said 
Arthur: “grief!’’ 

Fulgence was busy fastening the rose in her 
old master’s button-hole, when she suddenly 
raised her eyes, and perceived Arthur. Startled 
and terrified, she could not repress a slight 
scream. 

“What’s the matter with you?” 

“Nothing; I pricked myself with a thorn.” 

But the Count, following the direction ol 
her alarmed glance, saw the thrde young men, 
and looked at them steadily. 

“Ah! my Godd” said Fulgence to herself, 
“what will happen now?” 

The Baron on his side was startled. 

“I have a shivering feeling all down my 
back,” said he to himself, on seeing the Count 
arise, and direct his steps toward them. 

The anxiety of each had reached its height, 
and the blood coursed rapidly through their 
veins. 

When the Count was about two paces from 
the group, he raised his hand to his hat. 


232 


High Life. 


“I cannot be mistaken!’’ said he. Are you 
not Monsieur Arthur de Fandansec?” 

Then, certain it was no other, and without 
waiting for an answer : 

“Yes, it is!” holding out his hand. “It is 
Arthur, my old friend, Arthur de Fandansec? 
Ah ! I may be forgiven if I hesitated. How 
you have changed, my dear fellow! Have 
you been ill ?” 

Neither Arthur, the Baron, or the Prince 
knew scareely what lie was about. At first 
they thought it was sarcasm on the Count’s 
part, a jesting provocation. But, no. The Count 
was evidently sincere. What did it all mean ? 

“Excuse me,” continued he, “do you object 
to my accosting you in this manner? Have I 
offended 3^ou in any way ?” 

“I?” said Arthur, much perplexed and bewil- 
dered. “I, no. But I thought, naturally, that 
5"ou had reasons....” 

“What?” 

‘ ‘ Damn it ! Have you not reason with regard 

to....” 

“To bear ill will against 3"OU ? Why should 
I.^ Ah! yes, now I understand; about the 


High Life. 


238 


Countess ? What an idea ! Not at all, my dear 
fellow/^ 

“Not at all, ^’repeated the young man, think- 
ing he had heard incorrectly. 

“ Evidently, “ continued the Count, “under 
the circumstance, there might be — doubtless — 
reason for — yes. But this is an exceptional case, 
specially exceptional. You cannot understand! 
Neither is there any necessity for entering too 
minutely into particulars at present, although 
this much I may confess to you : far from hav- 
ing any feeling of ill will, I consider m3^self 
under an obligation to you for what has hap- 
pened. Without intending it, it is true, you 
have done me a great service in relieving me of 
a conscientious scruple which weighed on my 
mind. 

“You know my dear fellow, continued he, 
“I am no longer 3^oung, and the life the Count- 
ess led was altogether to fatiguing for me, for 
you must know how fond of society she is. 
On the other hand, the luxuries, to which she 
had a right, had made sad inroads in my for- 
tune, and I found myself obliged, either to sub- 
mit to total ruin, or place some restrictions 


284 


High Life. 


Upon the extravagant expenditure, which was 
painful to me. 

“I had arrived at such a point, that, during 
nights of sleeplessness, I thought to myself: 
‘Poor Inez! perhaps it would be better’ — for 
her sake, you understand, Arthur — ‘that a 
separation would be advisable.’ You must 
know that delicacy of feeling alone forced me 
to think of this only ; the same delicacy of feel- 
ing prevented me from being the first to pro- 
pose it. Some excuse would have been neces- 
sary, and I could not find one. 

“At the same time,” added the Count, with 
a good-humored smile, “I might have had a 
very good one, one day, or one evening rather, 
the same evening you both left. Do you re- 
member when you were lying under the sofa?” 

“The sofa?” asked the Baron. “What 
sofa? ” 

“ What ! Arthur never told you about that ? 
It is worth hearing. He was with the Countess, 
when, on hearing my footsteps, she hid him 
under the sofa! Then the most comical scene 
took place, and Inez fooled me as she might 
any old simpleton.... Quite true, Arthur, isn’t 


High Life. 


235 


it? He heard all, and how you must have 
laughed, my boy. But wait !.... wait !... .we 
must all take our turn ! 

“I also ended by laughing, for I had caught 
a glimpse of our friend’s hat, which gave me 
the clue to the little comedy which had just 
been enacted. 

“He can’t remain much longer there, 
thought I. Arthur is a very sensitive fellow, 
and too proud in any case to submit to any 
compromise, and accept the doubtful position 
of a lover in a family of three. He means to 
elope with her, that’s certain.... Very well, by 
all means let him do it.” 

“ What ! ” said Arthur, thunderstruck. “You 
said that to yourself! ‘ Let him do it ! ’” 
“Damn it all ! put yourself in my place.” 
“Alas!” thought the young man, “I have 
done that already pretty successfully! ” 

“By this means, also, any scruples I might 
have had were removed. I could reduce my 
expenditure, and attend to my business, which 
required immediate supervision. Also, I 
avoided all these recriminations, arguments 
and tears, which a separation inevitably en- 


236 


High Life. 


tails. Eveiything seemed arranged by a spec- 
ial dispensation of Providenee. You under- 
stand this, niy dear fellow, don’t you? ” 

“I! I tinderstand....,” replied Arthur with 
sudden excitement. “ On my soul, I must con- 
fess I don’t understand anything about it. 
Am I awake, or dreaming? If all this is not 
a disagreeable hallucination of the brain, if it 
is true that I exist, and am really here near 
you, who tell me such things in a natural way, 
I must have a nature totally different, or else 
I have altogether lost my balance.” 

“ Why ? ” asked the Count. “What is there 
so very extraordinary in all this ? ” 

“What is there extraordinary? Let me 
think. I did not dream it, since 3"OU have re- 
called so much to my mind ; I did elope with 
3^our wife, did I not ? ” 

“ Certainly ! I witnessed it ! ” 

“You witnessed it ? ” 

“I saw you leave with her! I made a pre- 
tense of going back to the club, but kept a 
watchful e}^ on all ^^our movements.” 

“Very well, that being so, you find it ordi- 
nary to come and offer me your hand and all 


High Life. 


237 


but say, ‘thank 3"Ou!’ lam laboring under 
no mistake? you declared ^^ourself under an ob- 
ligation to me? ” 

“Beyond doubt! ” 

“That is what I fail to understand. And I 
repl}^ that in all the wide world your conduct 
could not be equalled. Have 3^011 the habits 
of Iroquois Indians in your countr3^? You 
describe to us in a gay, thoughtless manner, 
the elopement of your own wife, not omitting 
certain amusing details, as if it were a good 
farce ; as if she had been simply your mistress ; 
indeed, the plaything of an hour. You seem 
to forget that she was your lawful wife. Is it 
necessary to keep sounding this in your ears 
forever? 

The Count smiled. 

“Oh!” said he, “ my wife. ...my wife!. ...You 
are going little too fast ! ” 

“Excuse me,” said Arthur. “She was sol- 
emnly married to you by a reverend father, if 
I remember right ? ” 

“Yes, it is true! ” 

“And in your country, there is no other legal 
ceremony to be observed ? ” 


238 


High Life. 


‘‘No other!’’ 

“Very well! Then?....” 

“I will explain” said the Count. “Unfore- 
seen events have taken place. This worthy 
old monk no longer continues his religious 
ministrations there. He was ambitious to 
convert a tribe of Indians, who had encamped 
in the neighborhood, but they failed to appre- 
ciate his never ending sermons, and compelled 
him to take his departure by setting fire to the 
hermitage and all it contained. Aniong the 
rest, papers of importance, such as marriage 
certificates etc. After which, the unfortunate 
devil, weary of con Averting the noble savage, 
engaged a passage on board a ship laden with 
a cargo of salted pigs, and they were all ship- 
wrecked together.” 

“Can it be possible!” retorted Fandansec. 
“But there were witnesses to this marriage? 
Your two lieutenants, if I am not mistaken.” 

“Exactly.” 

“They can be found then, and forced to give 
their testimony....” 

“ That would be difficult ! ” 

“Why?” 


High Life. 


239 


‘‘They were unfortunate. One was hanged 
for having assinated the other ! 

On hearing this, Arthur sat down. 

“So that’^ added the Count “you are at lib- 
erty to banish any scruples you may have on 
the subject, my friend. Since this marriage, 
between ourselves! Oh! you know. ...Pooh !” 

“There! everything is satisfactorily ar- 
ranged !^^ exclaimed the Prince, greatly relieved 
that there was to be no fighting. 

But Arthur rose excitedly, his eyes flaming, 
and his lips quivering with passion. 

“What do you say, that it is ‘all ar- 
ranged?^ he cried, clenching his teeth. “No 
indeed! Ah! excuse me, gentlemen, it is ex- 
actly the contrary.” 

“How is that? ” 

“Because, if this is so, Ihave been the person 
trifled with and fooled!” 

“Fooled?” 

“By Heavens, yes! Listen, and you will 
understand : In all sincerity and truth I 
eloped with a woman of the world ! As I be- 
lieved, virtuous, a married woman in fact, 
which ought to explain everything. Laboring 


240 


High Life. 


under this impression, I paid her all the respect 
I considered was due to her. We left for 
Switzerland, and there went through all the 
formalities necessary to become naturalized. 
She obtained a divorce, and we were married . 
The Notary, Mayor and Clergyman, duly con- 
firmed the ceremony, and I just escaped being 
made a protestant ! but at that I rebelled ! 
And this woman was not really married after 
all, had no claim to my consideration, so to 
speak, well then....’’ 

“Well, what?” 

“What, then?” 

“Well, I have been deceived! simply sold! 
They have taken advantage of my credulity — 
on the whole an honorable sentiment ! I con- 
sider it an abuse of confidence, unwortlij^, a 
serious injury.” 

“What can be the matter with him?” said 
the Count, suddenly becoming grave. 

“What is the matter with me? ” ejaculated 
Fandansec. “This is the matter, that I have 
been your dupe, and that I am not satisfied.” 

“One moment, sir!” replied d’Aladia. “I 
don’t quite relish the sound of that word.” 


High Life. 


241 


“Take it as you like, and for God’s sake dis- 
pense with these grand airs! What I have 
said, I maintain; it is my habit, and under- 
stand, my ‘good fellow,’ I am not to be in- 
timidated by you, nor any other person in the 
two hemispheres. Be good enough to remem- 
ber, that wc are here, and not on the pampas, 
thank Heaven ! There is no forest to burn 
down — and indeed to eonfess the truth, I 
don’t plaee much faith in any of your grand 
exploits over the seas. Here we have police- 
men, trustworthy men, who will see that the 
forests of our good Duke d’Aumale, is not set 
on fire. And even, sir, ‘my good friend ’ if the 
policemen do not interfere, I will undertake to 
keep you in your proper place, if you object to 
my telling you, that throughout this affair, 
you have displayed a most characteristic 
want of delicacy. 

“Repeat that again!” cried the old pirate, 
turning livid. 

“The utmost want of delicacy!” repeated 
Fandansec, rising up on tip-toe. 

“All right!” 

“All right?” repeated Arthur, shrugging his 


242 


High Life. 


shoulders. ‘‘He amuses me, this renowned 
fire-eater!” 

The Count advaneed a step. 

“You must withdraw that word!” he said 
in a low voiee. 

“And if I refuse to withdraw it?” replied 
Arthur, moving forward in his turn. 

“I will be under the neeessity of pulling your 
ears for you, my little friend !” 

Before he had finished the sentence, Arthur 
struck him across the face. 

The Count assumed an attitude of defense. 

But the Major, the Baron, and the Prince 
threw themselves between them. 

“Gentlemen!” said one. 

‘‘Fandansec!” exclaimed another. 

“Order! for the love of God, order!” cried 
the Baron, addressing the two adversaries, one 
after the other. 

“My good friend, you are in the wrong!” 
said the Prince. 

“Wrong?” said the other. “ You donT under- 
stand the circumstances of the case, Prince. If 
the marriage ceremony before the old father is 
suppressed, what is this man to Madame de 


High Life. 


243 


Faiidansec? Nothing more nor less than her 
lover!” 

“Allow me!” 

“No! Since I am her husband, her lawful hus- 
band, if the Count has never been really 
married to her, I am not the one that has de- 
ceived her: it is he who inflicts the disgrace and 
ridicule on me. He is my wife’s lover; there is 
no other way of putting it ; and her lover be- 
fore. We have exchanged places; while he 
allowed me to believe that I deceived him, it 
was he who....” 

“Arthur!” 

“A truce to explanations,” replied he. “I 
have insulted him : let us begin from that, and 
oblige me b3^ handing him my card. The rest 
can easily be arranged among gentlemen.” 

They did as he wished. Cards were ex- 
changed, and a preliminary meeting arranged 
between the seconds, on the following evening 
at Arthur’s house. 

The last race had been run; a jockey had been 
thrown, and broken his back; and the crowd, 
bookmakers, gamblers, blacklegs, gentlemen, 


244 


High Life. 


all mixed in one seething mass, elbowed each 
other without ceremony, in theirfrantic efforts 
to secure a seat in the return train to Paris. 



CHAPTER VIE 


ARTHUR'S REYENG:^* 

The following morning, Arthur, in his shirt 
sleeves, was taking a fencing lesson in the din- 
ing room of his house at Passj. 

Both the Prince and the Baron, his seconds 
in the coming duel, had insisted upon this, and 
went themselves in search of a fencing master 
whom they knew. 

Arthur did his best, following conscientiously 
the directions of the professor. 

‘‘One, two, guard, right, thrust, parry.” 

And lunging forward, he touched Arthur 
lightly with the button of his foil. 

“Well done! perfect!” he added in a satisfied 
tone. 

Then turning to Arthur’s friends, he called 
their attention to his attitude. 

“Do you observe the left leg?” said he to 
them. “Be good enough to observe the left 
leg." 


246 


High Life. 


After which, he threw himself on the defem 
sive, re-commencing with: 

“One, two, guard, right, thrust, parry.” 

And Arthur again received full on his chest 
the button of his adversary’s foil, while the 
fencing master continued : 

“ Good ! very good ! Perfect !” 

The Baron at last interfered : 

“I beg your pardon,” said he, “But there is 
soniethinginallthisido n’t quite understand.” 

“What may that be, sir?” 

“You say: ‘good! very good! perfect!’ but 
you always touch him.” 

“Of course!” 

‘ ‘ Why of course ? ” 

“ Every time ! my dear sir.” 

“And I feel it!” said Arthur, rubbing him- 
self. 

“That’s all very well,” replied the Baron, 
“but he never parries 3^our thrusts !” 

The fencing master smiled in a superior 
manner. 

“My right thrust?” he explained in a self- 
satisfied manner. “Parry my right thrust? 
Ah! indeed!” 


High Life. 


247 


‘‘Yet/’ interrupted Swenska, “it seems to 

me....” 

The professor interrupted him : 

“My right thrust cannot be parried, gentle- 
men!” said he. “Will 3"ou try it, my lord?” 
turning to the Prince. 

“This has nothing to do with the Prince,” 
retorted the Baron d’ losk. “Neither with the 
Prince, nor with 3^ou, but solely with our 
friend. Monsieur de Fandansec.” 

“Great natural aptitude!” replied the fenc- 
ing ma?ster. “And I will answer for it that in 
six months....” 

“Six months!” explained the Prince, “But 
Monsieur de Fandansec fights to-morrow!” 

“To-morrow morning at the latest!” added 
Arthur. “You do n’t consider this sufficiently. 
To-morrow morning, my dear professor!” 

“I did not understand that!” said the fenc- 
ing master. “But it does not matter; don’t 
alarm yourself. There is a means.” 

“A means?” 

“ Parbleu ! I know that much.” 

“What means?” 

“Take pistols !” 


i>48 


filGH 


Arthur and his friends looked disma^^ed. 

“Pistols!” said the Baron. “It is just this: 
we have not the choice of weapons — ” 

“Ah! the devil!” cried the other, with a sig- 
nificant grimace. 

Then, after reflecting: 

“May I be excused for asking who is your 
adversary, sir?” 

“The Count d’AldaYa.” 

The fencing master’s face vizibly lengthened . 
A smile of undisguised compassion spread over 
his countenance. 

“Yes! yes!” said he, disdainfully. “This 
South American, Brazilian old trapper fellow, 
is it not?” 

“The same. Do you know him?” 

“Know him!.... I should think so. He came to 
practice fencing at my room. The most laugh- 
able thing! It was not fencing. Only a false 
feint to disengage, a thrust under the guard, 
and then.... the point of his sword was through 
his adversary’s body.” 

“Ah!” said Arthur, “the sword went 
through.. ” 


High Life. 


249 


*^His adversary’s body; exactly! Only this is 
not fencing, it is not correct ; it does not count ; 
you understand what I mean?” 

”Yet,” objected the Baron, ^^if the point of 
his sword went through his adversary’s body! 
You are a good sort of fellow, can we depend 
on you....?” 

” Ah ! let us see,” resumed the Prince. ” You 
see all that Monsieur Fandanseccan do. Well, 
on your honor, what would you advise him to 
do?” 

‘‘Advise him to do ?” 

“Yes, and speak frankly.” 

The fencing master seemed to consider. 

“Speaking seriously, my advice is,” said the 
fencing master, “to adopt the pistols at any 
sacrifice.” 

“Well, but look at this,” said Arthur, taking 
up a card which was lying on the table, “fore- 
seeing that I might have a choice of weapons, 

I went with these gentlemen to have a trial at 
a shooting gallery, and.... this is the result, out 
of one hundred and fifty shots ! ” 

A slight break at the extreme edge of the card 


ttiGH LIF^. 


was all that was visible, and that was through 
a chance rebound. 

The fencing master’s face grew longer. Then, 
adopting a determined tone: 

You wish for my advice?” asked he. 

“Yes, yes!” 

“Frankly?” 

“As frankly as you like.” 

“In that case, listen: if the affair can be 
arranged, don’t hesitate 1 That is my advice.” 

“Never! ” exclaimed Arthur, with a passion- 
ate movement. 

The fencing master seemed to be struck by 
it. 

“Never?” repeated he, questioning] y. 

“Never! understand once for all, an affair 
with a Fandansec cannot be arranged.” 

“Then,” replied the professor, “it is a very 
serious affair?” 

“A very serious affair! ” ^ 

“A question of honor?” ' 

“An affair of honor! ” 

“That alters the case, and I could not think 
of leaving a gentlemen in such a straight. Ah ! 
an affair of honor !.... Would you two gentle- 


lliGH LiF^. 


251 


inen favor me with a few minutes private con- 
versation ? I can give you a tip ! 

They all seemed re-assured. Now that he 
could give them a tip, there was no reason for 
such anxiety. A tip, that was as much as to 
say he had an infallible talisman which would 
save Arthur ! 

Arthur had already left the room, carrying 
the foils and masks with him. 

Seeing this, the fencing master drew near the 
two friends, and in a low voice, he repeated : 

‘^If the affair could be arranged....^’ 

‘‘What?’^ 

Don’t hesitate!” added he, looking back- 
ward, as he stood on the doorstep. 

Left alone with S wen ska, the Baron in his 
turn, made a wry face. 

“Arrange the affair!” said he. “What a 
magnificent idea! For my part I will have 
nothing to do with such a comedy. When the 
Baron d’ losk appears on the ground, it must 
be with the certainty that one of the adversa- 
ries shall be left on the ground.” 

During all this time, Inez was undergoing in- 
tense anxiety. With her face pressed against 


252 


High Life. 


the window-pane, and her gaze fixed on the 
waving branches of the trees, she thought of 
Artlinr and his friends, repeating to herself 
from time to time : 

“Ah! My God!.... Will they never leave 

Then her apprehensions increasing: 

“Provided the other has only understood ! 
Provided he does not come just as they are 
leaving! ” 

To what strange thoughts could she be a 
prey ? 

Although she left the races with the Baron- 
ess, she knew what had taken place between 
her two husbands. 

Another woman would have yielded to des- 
pair. 

When Arthur had thus publicly insulted a 
man like the Count, that is to say, an advent- 
urer who never shrank from anything, how- 
ever desperate — she had already some experi- 
ence on that point — was it not useless to 
dream, even for a moment, of preventing a 
murderous encounter ? 

Yet she cherished a vague hope, and resolved 


High Life. 


253 


to try and do what she could to avert such a 
terrible catastrophe. 

Should a duel take place, there was no doubt 
in her mind as to what would be the result. 
Arthur would certainl3^ bite the dust. That 
was inevitable ! 

Again she thought of what her own fate 
would be : left a widow, and what was still 
worse, a widow without position, ruined and 
destitute of any claim to the consideration or 
esteem of others. 

If Arthur had made any settlement in her 
favor, or even made a will, it might be differ- 
ent; but this he had failed to do, and being a 
foreigner, she did not know, that as his widow, 
she had a claim on any property which might 
be left by his uncle, at Bicheterre, and the Can- 
oness. 

Taking all this into consideration, it was 
better that Arthur should live. 

Arthur secured her a fortune in the future, 
and he also secured to her a position in society. 

How save him from this impending fate, 
which would be so fatal to all her hopes ? 

She could not exactly decide, but trusted to 


254 


High Life. 


tlie inspiration of the moment, should she find 
herself alone with Antonio, and to the knowl- 
edge she possessed of his weaknesses, and the 
vulnerable points of his self-conceit. 

Even before leaving Chantilly, she had gone 
into a cafe near the station, asked for pen and 
paper, and had written to the Count. 

It was an easy matter to secure the co-oper- 
ation of the Baroness. The lady adored 
meddling with other people’s affairs, intrig- 
uing, making herself important, in order to 
have it in her power, later on, to repeat ever}"- 
thing under the plea of secrecy to her latest 
acquaintance, reserving for herself the char- 
acter of a heroine in whatever scandal she had 
been mixed up — 

It was she, Mme. d’ losk, who undertook 
to have this note delivered safely into the 
Count’s hands, and she did not fail to do so. 

Immediately the train arrived at Paris, she 
found a messenger, and slipping a franc into 
his hand, made him swear, that even if it ne- 
cessitated his staying the entire night at the 
Hotel du Eouvre, where d’ Aldaia had put up 


High Life. 


255 


for the moment, he would hand the note to 
him. 

Inez had thus written to her former hus- 
band : 

“I must see and speak to you. I must! — this second 
‘must’ was underlined three times, in a nervously excited 
manner — ‘ I must have a private interview with you.’ 

‘‘If you are not dead to ever3’' feeling of delicacj’’ and 
honor you cannot refuse this much to the one whose repu- 
tation you so nearly sacrificed on the Pampas. 

“I do not insist. Do you remember Antonio? Then to- 
morrow, in the afternoon, be somewhere in the neighbor- 
hood of our house, and keep concealed under the shadows 
of the poplars, and watch carefully the .second window to 
to the left, on the first floor in front of the house. 

“When you see a red silk scarf, shaken by a hand you can- 
not have quite forgotten, come to the house. I will be 
alone to receive yon, and there will be no chance of inter- 
ruption. 

“Give some assumed name to the servant who will open 
the door, a French, German, Polish, or Russian name, so 
that when m3" husband hears it repeated, he will not sus- 
pect anything. Besides, are you not the last person in all 
the universe, whom he would suspect of presenting himself 
at the house, after what happened at the races. 

“ Come, I wish it, you must, and you owe it to 

“Your 

“Inez.’’ 

There was no possible means of receiving ein 


256 


High Life. 


answer, so Inez had spent the morning in a 
state of mortal anxiety. 

“Has he recei^^ed my note? ” she kept asking 
herself. “And if he has received it, what will 
he think? What decision will he arrive at? 
Perhaps he will suspect me. Will he come? ” 

About two o’clock, she fancied she saw a 
shadow wandering about, under the trees in 
the Avenue. Her instinct had not deceived 
her. It was Antonio ; the Antonio of former 
times, livel3% alert, bronzed by the sun and 
even superb in the possession of perfect health 
and vitality. 

“Ah! if those others would only leave the 
house ! ” 

Feverish and excited, she threw herself down 
on her knees b3^ the side of the bed, and offered 
pra3^ers to the Virgin, binding herself by a 
solemn vow, to burn six wax tapers, costing 
a franc and a half each, if her hol3" interven- 
tion procured her success in this undertaking. 

An orthodox Catholic, after the manner of 
Spanish Colonists, she did not doubt for one 
moment, that six tapers at a franc and a half. 


High Life. 


257 


could fail to tempt the Holy Mother of God, 
to aid her in this grand affair. 

Indeed, she might have practiced economy. 
But, possibl3^, her modesty made her doubtful 
of the feelings her first husband still enter- 
tained toward her, and she felt the need of 
some one to intercede on her behalf, either in 
this world or the next. 

In fact, on receiving the letter, the Count, 
judging from his looks, experienced a feeling of 
surprise, not unmixed with annoyance. 

Suddenly a smile, not altogether devoid of 
malice, irradiated his countenance. 

^^Well, fiankl^^,” said he to himself, “this is 
an original idea! this is a pretty game! To 
come in secret to her former husband; to 
change from Bartholo to Almaviva, is amusing 
to a superlative degree 1 

“And to think,” added he, by way of being 
keenly philosophical, “that there are people 
in this country, opposed to divorce! This 
would be a most interesting case to submit to 
llicir notice. When would this institution, 
that they call marriage — so monotonous in 
itself— furnish a situation more attractive? 


17 


258 


High Life. 


How is it, that the partisans of divorce have 
not placed some such highly-seasoned episode 
in the hands of their pleaders? It would be 
enough to entice their opponents. Enough to 
convert the most obstinate and skeptical.” 

It was while indulging in these sentiments, 
that, at the hour appointed, or rather a little 
in advance, he turned his footsteps in the direc- 
tion of Passy. Inez need not have feared that 
he would become impatient; he would have 
waited there until the crack of doom, so much 
did the spiciness of the whole affair tickle his 
self-love. 

And in fact he was not put to any very 
severe test. 

Tired, worn out and exhausted by the fa- 
tiguing exercises he had gone through so relig- 
iously with the fencing-master, Arthur declared 
he was literally incapable of another effort. 

Well ?” said the Prince when he returned. 

'‘Well,” replied the young man, “I am 
awfully tired.” 

“Yes ! but the solving of the enigma?” 

“Ah! that did not amount to very much,” 


High Life. 


259 


And seeing the look of diseouragement on 
his friends’ faees : 

“But that does not matter,” said Arthur. 
“Things must remain as they now are: the 
most expert in the art of feneing do not al- 
ways display the same amount of skill on the 
ground, when instead of a foil, well buttoned, 
they have a pistol pointed in their direetion^ 
in the hands of a man determined to shoot 
straight. Besides, there is no more time to 
waste. And now, as the hour is near for the 
meeting between the seeonds, let us go. I will 
wait for you down stairs in the cab, so as to 
learn your decision at once. I have some final 
arrangements to make.” 

“My dear fellow,” said the Baron, thinking 
he was alluding to his will, “you must not 
give up all hope, what the devil....” 

“You don’t understand me,” replied Arthur, , 
holding up his head. “I was not alluding to 
those arrangements.” 

“What were you alluding to, then?” 

“My dear friends,” continued Arthur, “one 
is, or one is not, a man of the world, a leader 
of society , one of the upper ten, one of those 


260 


High Life. 


on whom the e\^es of the masses are fixed. 
Well, when it happens that you are one of 
those superior beings, it is your simple duty, 
on every occasion, to set a good example to 
the general public. Do you not agree with 
me?” 

“Of course.” 

“Never let us forget,” continued Arthur, 
“that the breath of the Revolution spread 
itself over societ^^, secular institutions, fami- 
lies, religion, etc. Everything is mixed up at 
the x)resent day, and all the old landmarks, 
that so distinctly separated the classes, have 
been almost obliterated. Well, it is for us to 
protest, to oppose, by the nobilit}^ of our 
actions, a barrier to the advancing tide of 
vulgarity and Communism. To prove that 
we are made of finer clay, and the possessor 
of finer attributes. 

“A member of the common classes,” pur- 
sued Arthur, “some wealthy tradesman, find- 
ing himself in my position, would shut himself 
up in liis room, and, with teeth chattering in 
his head, would employ the last few hours left 
him, by specifying on paper how his few miser- 


High Life. 


261 


able sous were to be disposed of, in the event 
of his death. 

“I, gentlemen, I propose to take a drive 
round the lake presently ; pass the evening at 
the Boulfes, for unfortunately there is no opera 
to-night, and in conclusion, instead of declar- 
ing my last wishes — indeed I’ve nothing left 
to give away, hardly more than will meet my 
funeral expenses — I intend to invite all my 
friends, to a supper at the Cafe Anglais, and 
await there, the hour fixed for the encounter. 

“There” said he, pulling himself up to his 
full height “that is the st3de to adopt when 
you want to show what you are made of; and 
conscious of the obligations you are under to 
3^our equals, when in your heart 3^011 wish to 
protest against the Anarchy, which reigns in 
the manners and customs of the times.” 

The Prince and the Baron were lost in ad- 
miration. This was “ High Life ” and no mis- 
take. 

“Come along! let us look afterthese seconds 
of the Count,” repeated Arthur looking for his 
cane. 

He happened to draw back the curtain of 


2G2 


High LIfe. 

the window, and looking out, he uncon- 
sciously gave utterance to an exclamation of 
surprise. 

“What is it ? ” asked the Prince. 

“ Oh ! nothing ! replied Fandansec hastily. 
“Suppose you go first, gentlemen, perhaps it 
would be better to go alone. I will follow 
presently, and in about an hour, will meet you 
in the Bois.’’ 

We can easily divine what disturbed Arthur’s 
equanimity. He had caught a glimpse of the 
Count d’Aldai'a, and invented this excuse to 
gain time to assure himself that there was no 
mistake. 

As soon as the friends left, he opened a 
drawer, and took out a field glass, which he 
leveled at the shady spot where he had seen 
the apparition. 

At the moment, there was not a trace of an^^ 
one. The trees prevented him from seeing very 
distinctly. 

He waited, trembling with rage, grinding 
his teeth, wild, furious. 

A little later the vision re-appeared, shadowy 
at first, then more distinct. 


High Life. 


1:G3 

It was indeed the Count. Not a donbt of it. 
And the Count in good spirits, jo\"Ous, gay; 
an impatient victor, but certain of his wel- 
come. 

“What is he doing there?” the 3^oung man 
asked himself. “What can he be watching 
for? Is it possible he can be making signs?.... 
And to whom ?... .Good God! to whom, 
then?” 

And drawing himself back to the extreme 
end of the window, he found he could discern 
ever^" movement clearly. 

That the Count was making signs was evi- 
dent. He seemed to be asking something. 

But yet, who could he be addressing? Was 
it possible he had bribed one of the servants 
to furnish him with information ? 

Suddenly Arthur heard the sound of a win- 
dow opening up stairs. 

The Count turned and looked up, still more 
enquiringly. Then he held his head in a listen- 
ing attitude, forming with his hand a sort of 
ear trumpet. 

“Some one must be speaking to him,” said 
Arthur to himself. 


264 


High Lif£. 


He also listened, and it seemed to him he 
heard a voice murmur: 

^‘Not yet” 

Upon which this Romeo made signs that he 
understood. 

” All right ! ” he seemed to say. 

And he withdrew under the shade of the 
trees. 

Although it was not much that Arthur had 
seen, yet it was enough. 

The window had been opened by Inez. He 
had recognized her voice when she murmured : 

“Not yet !” 

It was enough. He formed his plans on 
the instant. 

Ostensibly, and in a perfectly trail qttil man- 
ner he went into the ante-chamber, calling up 
a servant : 

“If anyone should ask for me,” said he, “I 
can be seen at the club till four o’clock. After 
that I shall be at the Bois, at the left side of 
the lake. I think of returning home for din- 
ner at seven o’clock, but if anything should 
pie vent me doing so, I shall certainl}^ pass the 
evening at the Bouffes, stall 45. Note this 


High Life. 


265 


carefully, for there may be matters of import- 
ance to consult me about.” 

He stopped to correct a figure that the foot- 
man had written badly, and then left, whist- 
ling a hunting song. 

Inez anxiously watched him from an upper 
window. She saw him go along the avenue, 
hail a driver, get into a cab, and disappear. 

‘‘At last!” she sighed. “And now for the 
other ! ” 

She then took a red scarf, and passing an 
arm, lovely enough to serve as a model for 
Phidias, across the shutters of the half-opened 
window, she gave the signal agreed upon. 

By way of an answer the Count threw back 
a kiss. 

She withdrew and went to the drawing- 
room. 

Scarcely had she installed herself in a care- 
fully studied attitude on the lounge, when the 
door bell rang. 

“There he is ! ” she said to herself. 

There was a short delay. 

Then the parlor maid appeared. 

“A gentleman asks to see my lady.” 


266 


High Liki-. 


“ His name ? ” 

“Monsieur deWall ’el R&s.” A compatriot 
of my lady’s, who crossed over to France in 
the same steamer with her.” 

“ Oh ! Yes, I remember perfectly, now,” cried 
the Countess, as if speaking to herself. “An 
old friend of the famil^^ a god-son of my 
sainted mother’s. Show him in, Justine, show 
him in ! ” 

Justine was completely taken in, and hast- 
ened to admit the visitor. 

When the Cotmt and Inez found themselves 
alone, a scrutinizing glance passed from one to 
the other. 

The Countess could not dispute the fact, 
that her ex-husband, had greatly changed for 
the better. 

On his side, he was struck with the fascina- 
ting beaut}" of the Countess. 

“May the devil take me ! ” said he mentally ; 
“if she is not handsomer than ever! That 
young fool Arthur, damn it all, is a fortunate 
scamp.” 

When removed from each other, people we 
have lived with, benefit by our forgetfulness 


JliGH Life. 


567 


of their shortcomings, as we are apt to re- 
member only their attractions. 

Inez was in the full splendor of early matur- 
ity. She also had changed to advantage, and 
her natural elegance had arrived at the height 
of its perfection. 

The Count did not remember many little 
things, which had in a greater or less degree 
annoyed him formerly; even that cursed “ Beg- 
gar my Neighbor,” which had almost driven 
him to a state of idiocy. He merely contem- 
plated her, as she appeared then, in all her 
matchless beauty, and gave her the admira- 
tion which was her due. 

The sight of Inez, alone, as she appeared 
then, was sufficient to transport him with ad- 
miration, even if he did not indulge in a linger- 
ing desire, to be revenged on M. de Fandansec. 

Meanwhile as she had asked him to come, he 
naturally concluded that she wished to obtain 
something from him. 

What? 

He determined to be circumspect in his 
dealings with her— to keep a hold over her as 


268 


High Life. 


long as lie could — and he advanced with due 
ceremony, saying: 

“You have done me the honor, Madame, to 
ask for an interview. I am here in accordance 
with your wishes. How can I oblige 3^ou ? “ 

With a courteous gesture, Inez pointed to a 
chair at the foot of the lounge on which she re- 
clined, half smothered in a heap of lace and 
embroidered draperies, where gauze, cambric 
and silk, were blended together in the most ar- 
tistic manner. 

“Please sit down. And now, how do you 
do?“ 

With the last phrase, she held out her hand 
with the grace of a queen ; a movement which 
displayed an arm so exquisitely modeled, and 
a skin of such velvety softness, that would 
have tempted St. Anthoin^ himself 

“She is adorable!’’ said the Count to him- 
self, clenching his hands. “ That young villain, 
Arthur! the mean scamp ! ” 

Feeling completely overcome, the old free- 
booter lowered his eyes. 

“For the safety of my soul,’’ breathed he, 
with an accent that was almost prayer, “don’t 


High Life. 


269 


look at me in that wa3^, Madame! Have 

the chanty to think, that I now realize all 
that I have lost!” 

It was really impossible to pay to any wo- 
man homage more delicate or complete. 

But the Countess onl\" waited to prove the 
power she still held over this man, and to 
derive confidence for the success of the project 
she had in view. 

^‘Do you know,” said she to him, “that you 
are wonderfully improved ?” 

“Do you mean it?” replied the Count, mod- 
estly. 

“Yes! without flattery, you have become 
quite rejuvenated. And then, what is this that 
I hear ? You have regained your fortune ?” 

“Almost !” 

“Altogether, if I may believe what has been 
told me. It seems that 3^ou had onh^ to make 
your appearance at the mine, in order to put 
everyone in his proper place.” 

“They listened to reason, it is true.” 

“And gold flows, then ?” 

“You have described the situation accu- 
rately : it simply flows I” 


270 


High Life. 


“I am delighted to hear it, my dear.’^ 

‘‘I do not doubt it, Madame.” 

‘'So that now you are happy?” 

“Absolutely! That is to say, a hundred times 
more than I deserve.” 

A short silence followed. 

“I used to think,” re-commenced Inez, “I 
used to think that you were one of those 
whom happiness rendered generous.” 

“What has happened to give you a less 
favorable impression of me?” 

“ Have I not learned that you intend to kill 
my husband ?” 

“If they informed you correctly, my dear 
Madame, you must know the fault was not 
mine. I did not wish it, and I tried to avoid 
a quarrel. It was he, on the contrar3q who 
insulted me. Have your informants been 
truthful enough to explain this to you, or 
must I relate ever3Thing?” 

“ Quite unnecessary !” 

“And in such a case?” 

“I do not trouble myself about the cause,” 
continued Inez. “I merely think of the conse- 
quences.” 


High Life. 


271 


“Well?” 

“Well! my dear Antonio, you must not kill 
my husband!” 

“ Pardon me, dear Madame !” 

“You will kill him ?” 

“Like a little rabbit !” 

“Nonsense!” 

“With sabre, pistol, carbine, rifle, on foot or 
on horseback, he can have his choice; but to- 
morrow, at dawn, as true as we are here, I 
swear that he will add to the number of those 
whom I have sent to repose on the bosom of 
Abraham. You can rely upon that, if you will 
do me the honor to remember the sort of man 
I am.” 

“ Bah !” said Inez. 

“There is no Miah!’ dear Madame. Order 
your mourning now, if 3^ou choose.” 

The ex-Countess, who had received him smil- 
ingly, did not cease to smile during all the time 
that she took to answer. 

“My dear friend” said she at last, “if I 
know the sort of man 3"ou are, you cannot 
entirely have forgotten the strength of pur- 
pose, and the clear-sightedness, with which 


272 


High Life. 


heaven has gifted me. I have made up my 
mind also, and I am determined not to be 
made a widow, nor to lose the rank which I 
have struggled for — with such pains — in so- 
ciety. I am indiiferent to Monsieur de Fan- 
dansec; he has disappointed me thoroughly. 
But such as he is, I wish him to live, and I 
mean that he shall. 

“Alas ! until the break of day.’^ 

“No!’’ 

“ What will you wager ? ” 

Inez shrugged her shoulders : 

“Do you know who will be here, before you 
can accomplish this fresh exploit? ” 

“Ah ! dear Madame, what the devil is it to 
me who arrives ? ” 

“He will come. ...my husband.” 

“Fandansec? ” 

“Fandansec ! ” 

“ Let him come 1 ” 

“Not alone, my dear Antonio, not alone, but 
with two good police agents, and a magis- 
trate, who will not listen to an3- nonsense.” 

“ What to do ? ” demanded the Count, with 
a vague feeling of discomfort. 


High Life. 


273 


‘'To give undeniable proof that you are 
liere!’^ 

“What!’^ 

“That you are here; whieh eonstitutes, as 
you are doubtless aware, a penal offense ; see 
article number....” 

“Ah! Come, let us see” said the Count. If 
this is a joke, it is rather amusing, most origi- 
nal!” 

“Original altogether!” replied Inez. Two 
years in prison. Tell me. Count, do you 
know how to weave felt slippers ? ” 

The Count did not laugh any longer. He 
might set fire to forests, exterminate tribes of 
Indians, struggle against the angry waves, as 
novelists say, or shoot those who contradic- 
ted him, all without changing color; but the 
prospect of twenty-four months at Poissy, vis- 
ibly intimidated him. 

Yet was it so serious ? Was it possible, that 
he, the terror of the Pampas, could be reduced 
to such a pass ? 

He could not bring himself to believe it. 

Nevertheless, certain remembrances, in con- 
nection with this woman, came back to hin , 


274 


High Life. 


The scene of the sofa, more particularly. She 
had clispla3^ed histrionic ability of no mean 
order, and had he not by chance perceived 
Arthur’s hat, stupidly forgotten by the 
owner, he would have been completclj^ de- 
ceived. 

The devil ! 

But no ! Admitting that Inez, anxious to 
avenge herself for the cavalier and summary 
manner in which he had forced her to marry 
him, had conceived this vulgar device, to sur- 
prise him by the authorities, would Arthur 
countenance such a proceeding ? 

Let him think. A Fandansec, the descen- 
dant of several illustrious families, to join in 
such a snare ! 

It was a little strong. But the old pirate 
had been long enough in Paris, to know what 
even higher men of birth than Arthur, were 
capable of. 

How man 3", who bore names of even his- 
toric renown, had been discovered, some cheat- 
ing at cards, others making an abuse of their 
position as members of the Ministr3^ to specu- 
late on the Bourse, etq. 


High Life. 


275 


Why then, should M. cle Fandansec be more 
particular? It must not be forgotten, also, 
that this second husband of Inez had been 
brought up at a Seminary ! 

The more the Count reflected, the less he 
liked the situation ; it did not appear to him 
at all impossible that Arthur would conde- 
scend to mingle in such a plot, and, finally, the 
ingenuous d’Aldaia found himself in the toils ! 

In fact it was logical. What other means to 
avoid the duel, could Arthur devise? For he 
must know, it would end fatally for him. 

The Count no longer doubted. 

“All the same,’’ said he, “he is a pretty gen- 
tleman!” 

However, as he was not a bad actor, he as- 
sumed a bold front. 

“Come!” said he, “it is well played, my 
dear, and I give in! What are your condi- 
tions?” 

Instinctively he drew a check book from his 
pocket, thinking that he would not be free to 
go without paying ransom. 

“One condition alone!” replied Inez, “one 
alone.” 


276 


High Life. 


Name it.” 

“The duel must be fought with pistols, you 
must exchange two shots each, and 3^our honor 
will be satisfied.” 

“And then?” 

“That is all!” 

“I don’t understand,” said the Count. 

“You are rather obtuse, my dear. I only 
hold to one thing : to remain the wife, and not 
the widow, of Monsieur de Fandansec.” 

“ But he has spent his all ! He has not a sou 
left to bless himself with !” 

“So much the better 1 ” 

“You astonish me.” 

“Difficulties and privations, bind hearts 
more closely together,” replied Inez, “We be- 
long to a wealthy family, in the country of 
Arles....” 

“ I understand !” 

“Come then.” said she, “Are we agreed?” 

“To oblige 3^011, dear friend.” 

“In that case, write out the agreement, and 
let us sign.” 

“Sign what?.... that....?” 


H GH LiSE. 


277 


“That the cUtel will not end fatally for Mon- 
sieur de Fandansec?” 

“But what security do you want?^^ 

“A forfeit!” 

“How much?” 

‘‘Fix that yourself, my dear Count.” 

Altogether reassured, he found the adven- 
ture more and more original. So without fur- 
ther hesitation, he went to the table, took 
some paper for the purpose of putting their 
agreement into writing. 

Wishing that the deed might be couched in 
terms worthy of the recipient, he searched care- 
fully for words suitable to his purpose. 

As he was commencing the first phrase, Inez 
bounded from the couch like a wounded pan- 
ther. 

“Listen!” said she in a low, agitated voice. 

“What for?” 

“ Hush ! Don’t 3^011 hear. The3^ are coming 
back!” 

“Who?” 

“He!” 

“Arthur?” 


“Yes! Arthur!” 


278 


High Life. 


The Count seemed paral3"zed, and still be- 
lieving in the eoniplieity of his successor: 

“Too soon!” said he growing angr3^ '‘He 
returns too soon. There is only one thing to 

do....” 

“At least,” added he, “I hope it won’t be 
necessary to yield him up my watch !....” 

But without listening to him, Inez rapidly 
bolted the door; then returning to d’ Aldaia: 

“You then believed that we were together 
in this plot?” she demanded in a tone of superb 
disdain. 

“How? It was false? it was....?” 

“You are not very bright, my dear. Do you 
imagine that a Fandansec would withdraw 
Irom an affair of honor? You still bear the 
impress of 3^our education!” 

The Count saw that he had been mistaken, 
and he felt mortified. Decidedl3% he had mis- 
understood this woman. The influence, per- 
haps, of “Beggar My Neighbor.” But now, 
to do her justice, he was bound to confess, that 
she had surpassed herself. 

The peril was imminent, How to escape it? 


High Life. 


27y 


He could not see any means, and at that mo- 
ment, some one knocked violently at the door. 

‘‘Open, Inez; open!” cried Arthur. 

No other voice accompanied his. The sum- 
mons then was not made then in the name of 
the law. It was impossible to suspect any 
mutual understanding existing between the 
husband and wife. 

While the Count argued thus with himself, 
Inez had opened the door of a cupboard, and 
turning towards the old trapper: 

“There, and quickly!” said she. 

“ But.... but,” said the Count, “he will dis- 
cover me there, and in what a position ! ” 

“Your memory fails you, Antonio. I will 
undertake that he does not discover you. 

“Yet....” 

“Do you remember?....” 

“What?” 

“The sofa!” 

Outside, Arthur continued to knock violently 
at the door, the hinges of which began to yield, 
and he swore like a trooper. 

My faith! half subdued, half stunned, 
the Count, as a last resource, slipped inside 


iiBO 


High Life. 


the cupboard. But remembering, as Inez had 
suggested, at the moment she was about to 
shut the door : 

'‘My hat ! said he* 

The young woman passed it to him, and 
locking the door, she concealed the key in the 
folds of her dress. 

It was time! The woodwork of the door 
gave way. 

Inez ran to the door, drew back the bolt, 
first removing some hairpins from her hair, so 
that when necessary her hair might fall over 
her shoulders; then, falling on her knees, upon 
the entrance of her husband, she cried : 

“Mercy!” and she clasped her hands, and 
holding her head down, repeated : 

“ Mercy !....! am guilty ! ” 

“Who drew that bolt?” demanded Arthur, 
in a terrible voice. 

“He did! I will tell you all!” 

“He? The Count, you mean? ” 

“I will tell all,” repeated Inez, drawing deep 
breaths. “ He watched you go out, and forced 
an entrance here, in spite of all I could do. 
Ah! Arthur! Arthur! ’ 


High Life. 


281 


Where is he?” yelled the ^^ouiig man, furi- 
ously. 

“Gone!” 

“You lie!” 

“ Gone ! I swear to you ! ” 

“ Again you lie ! I would have seen him.” 

“Ah! My God! Ah! Lord! Holy Virgin, 
don^t abandon me!” exclaimed the Countess, 
with increased terror in her voice. 

And by a slight movement she allowed all 
her luxuriant hair to fall in masses around her, 
giving to her appearance a false resemblance 
to the repentant Magdalen. 

“Where is he?” repeated Arthur, still more 
angrily, without stopping to notice all this 
little byplay. “Oh! I shall manage to find 
him!” 

But Inez clung to his arm. 

“Arthur! ” cried she. “I would rather con- 
fess everything. Yes, I will tell you all. Yes, 
Arthur, he is here. ...But, mercy!” 

“Here? Where then ?... .Speak ! or....” 

He made a threatening gesture, upon which 
Inez, thinking it the proper moment to do so, 
gave a piercing scream. 


Q82 


High Life. 


Then breathless, half dead, she pointed to- 
wards the side door. 

“There!” said she, sobbing with grief. 
“There.... in m3^ room.... Ah! mercy, for 
him ! ’ ’ 

“Merc3^ for him!” replied Fandansec, with 
a yell of Satanic laughter. “We will see!” 
and he made a step in the direction of the 
door. 

At this moment Inez got up, and throwing 
back her hair, displayed to view the most 
mocking visage, it is possible to imagine, 
even in an imp of hell, and, letting herself drop 
into a chair, she burst into a peal of laughter 
almost painful to hear. 

Just as she had done at the villa in the Rue 
Balzac, while Arthur was suffocating under 
the sofa, she rolled about, holding her sides, 
and repeating: 

“He actually believes it!.... No, it is too 
much. How it does hurt, laughing so much. 
It will make me ill. Heavens above! How 
amusing he is ! ....” 

For a moment Arthur stopped to look at 


High Life. 


283 


her with a shade of hesitation and doubt on 
his face. 

Then relaxing the severity of his glance, 
and assuming the tone of one conscious of his 
superiority : 

“Yes, yes!’^ said he, adopting the cant of 
the gay man of the world, “I know it. I 
have seen this little game before, my angel !....“ 
Upon which, returning towards the door: 

“ It remains between us two, Count!” said 
he, with buoyant air. 

“Arthur,” cried Inez, running after him, with 
the despairing accent of a person caught in 
their own toils. “Arthur! In the name of 
Heaven, have pity !....” # 

But Arthur, inflexible, repulsed her, and 
passing out quickl3^, he replaced the panel in 
the door and double locked it. 

Inez very tranquilly gave two or three 
knocks against the door, pretending to cling 
to it ; then overturned a chair, to feign that 
her own beautiful body had fallen prone on 
the carpet. 

That done, she quietly opened the door of 
the cupboard, saying to the Count: 


284 


High Lif^. 


There!” 

‘‘Accept my compliments,” replied he, per- 
fectly astonished. 

“As to the duel, I have your word, An- 
tonio?” 

“Of honor!” said the Count, kissing her 
hand. “I could never forgive myself for run- 
ning counter to the wishes of a person of your 
talent.” 

And he left. 

When Arthur returned to the room, out of 
sorts and dispirited, he found his wife before 
thc^ glass arranging her hair. 

“Well?” said she, with her habitual grace. 

“Well!” replied Fandansec, still keeping up 
the idiom of the club. “You think you know 
women.” 

“^And then ?....” 

“And then ;... you don’t know them!” 

“But 3^ou, my dear? ” 

“I.... I did not know them ; that is all !” 


CHAPTER YIIL 


WHERE ARTHUR I)E FANDANSEC FIGHTS 
A DUEL. 

There was a regatta that day at Chatoii. 

Regattas also appeared on the programme 
of “High Life.” And the piek of Yole’s Club 
especialh^, had done such marvels with the 
oar, rowing with a swing, precision, and clock- 
like regularity of movement, as brought them 
at the end of the day, victors over all other 
competing crews. 

This is wh3", on the evening of the same da}^ 
Arthur de Fandansec, who had engaged a pri- 
vate room at the Cafe Anglais and awaited 
his guests there, was very much disturbed by 
the row in the adjoining room, made by the 
crew of the winning fdtir, which had carried 
awa3" the gold medal at the said regatta of 
Chatou, 


286 


High Life. 


They certainly had a jolly time of it, these 
brawny athletes. There were ladies also — 
ladies ! let it be understood — ^ladies who sang 
songs that would bring blushes to the cheeks 
of an abbe. 

And Arthur, who did not feel in a laughing 
mood, repeated to himself every five minutes: 

“Damned fools! How can men make such 
idiots of themselves ? ’ ^ 

At last, unable to bear it any longer, he rang 
the bell. 

“Send Ernest up,^^ hesaid, in an angr v tone. 

While waiting for Ernest (the head waiter) 
he gave himself up to reflection. 

“There are times, he said, “when all this 
sort of thing appears unnatural. I know, 
that in the romances of Aresne Houssaye, that 
which is happening to me, is as common and 
frequent an occurrence as a letter by post. 
But however faithfull^^ this great master ma^^ 
depict the manners and habits of ‘High Life,^ 
novels are novels. And every now and then I 
feel m^^self the plaything of a fantastic dream, 
of some giddy nightmare, which troubles and 
gonfuses me, and leaves me doubtful of the 


High Life. 


287 


reality of my existence. It is an oppression of 
the brain, closely allied to madness. I have 
pinched myself, in order to be assured that I 
am not a prey to somnambulism.” 

At this moment Ernest entered. 

Impressive in his desire to please, as impas- 
sible as a donkey about to be curr3"-combed, 
the waiter entered the room noiselessly, shut 
the door softly, and was at Arthur’s side be- 
fore the latter knew anything about it. 

“You rang, sir?” demanded he. 

“Ah! Ernest! Let me see, Ernest; what are 
tlic3^ doing next door ? Do 3^ou hear them ?” 

“Perfectly, sir.” 

“They are raising a devil of a row. What 
sort of people are they?” 

“ People of the best societ3", sir. 

“ It would seem so !” 

“Pardon me, sir, the scions of our noblest 
houses! Only they have been drinking rather 
freely!’’ 

“In that case, they ought to be in bed. Why 
the devil don’t they go there?” 

“They had gone, sir, but some other gentle- 
men in the adjoining room challenged theni 


288 


High Life. 


across the partition. At first they began by 
insulting each other. Then they sent delegates 
with a view of obtaining satisfaction ; and as 
the seconds were themselves in an equally inca- 
pable condition, one of them began to shed 
maudlin tears. On perceiving this, another, 
who began to feel vei*}' ill, embraced him, and 
the affair came to an end without any seri- 
ous consequences. Now they are the best of 
friends. They are all in a half gushing state, 
ladies and all.” 

“Ah! very well, then, I suppose they are 
going to continue this din all night?” 

“Ah! no, sir: don’t be uneasy. You see I 
have experience in these matters. When they 
begin by taking things seriously, they end by 
’oeconiing affectionate ; poetry, wild flowers ; it 
is always the case !.... And wait a moment, sir,” 
added Ernest, assuming a listening attitude, 
“they are arriving at the affectionate stage, 
listen ” 

Arthur remained silent, and heard a voice, 
laboring under some little difficulty, it is true, 
sing in a melancholy and lachrymose tone ; — 


High Life. 


289 


“ ’Tis for ta mere, my charmings one, 

You braved the blush, your task is done. 

Take twenty sous and homeward haste. 

As undefiled and wholly chaste 
As when you came. The Artist ne’er 
Would take the bloom from rose so fair. 

E’en though the rose in squalor grew — 

Your poverty has shielded you. 

Adieu, petite! May heaven guard, 

And make your stony path less hard. 

I would I were the king of Spain, — 

I’d have you come to me again. 

And for my model’s guileless sway 
A hundred sous would give each day.” 

“ 111 ten minutes,’’ continued Ernest, they will 
begin ‘ Ai, Cliiquita!’ you know.” 

“They say thou’rt never going to wed — 

Then number me among the dead.” 

“And considering that they have consumed 
large quantities of green Chartreuse, I would 
not be astonished, sir, if they went so far as to 
end in a canticle:” 

“Most happy is the faithful heart 
That throbs with fervor, scorning art.” 

“All this happens among these fast young 
gentlemen; it is generally the canticle which 
is sung most vigorously.” 

“I don’t say no,” said Arthur, “but at the 
same time, it is excessively annoying. I came 


19 


290 


High Life. 


here in advance of the others, to write a few.... 
last wishes.’’ 

“Sir!....” said Ernest, betraying not a little 
emotion. 

“Ah!....” cried Arthur, with a grace of man- 
ner worthy of the philosophical man of the 
world. “One must not take fright at mere 

words. But when one is on the threshold 

of eternity — yes putting it plainly, on the 

threshold of eternity, Ernest, it is better to 

arrange certain little details I was just 

about to — I am only saying this as you happen 
to be here — express my wish that a little sou- 
venir be left to you ” 

“Sir!” replied Ernest, feelingly, “Monsieur 
de Fandansec !....” 

Grief is contagious. Seeing this old waiter 
making elforts to overcome his emotion, Ar- 
thur was really touched and also flattered. 

He found himself so lonely, so isolated, un- 
der circumstances where one ought to be sur- 
rounded and supported by friends, for the 
bravest men, the night before a duel, are apt 
to find some difficulty in keeping gloomy and 
discouraging thoughts at bay. 


High Life. 


291 


Also the desire for sympathy, and need of 
confiding your wishes to some friend, regard- 
ing the perilous moment so soon to arrive, is 
almost irresistible. 

In the absence of this, one writes. This is 
why Arthur, who had shown himself so dis- 
dainful to that class of people who devoted 
their last moments to making their will, had 
unconsciously imitated them, in writing ^‘a 
little note’’ of what he called ‘‘last wishes.” 

Altogether disconcerted at failing to surprise 
the Count with Inez, he had not been able to 
keep his appointment at the lake, and when, 
having found his witnesses, he was informed 
b^^them that the weapons chosen were pistols, 
he even neglected his dinner ; he found a bowl 
of soup sufficient. 

He went to the Bouffes of course ! There, he 
would be certain to meet some of the people 
who knew about the forthcoming duel, and it 
would be some satisfaction to let himself be 
seen as if on any ordinary occasion ; a foolish 
act under such circumstances ! 

Besides, the play would interest him, and 
help to pass the hours that yet intervened be- 


292 


High Life. 


fore the time arrived for the sumptuous repast 
he was to share with his friends, and which he 
hoped would have the effect of rousing and in- 
spiring him with that cool courage, becoming 
to him under the circumstances. 

Among all those he met at the Bouffes, not 
one made allusion to the approaching duel, nor 
did they seem to have heard of it ! So he con- 
cluded they must be ignorant of the fact. 

As for the play, never in all the many times 
he had listened to her, had Theo seemed to 
suffer so much from hoarseness. Daubray ex- 
asperated him, and Mme. Peschard, cleverly 
disguised as she was, failed to deceive him. 

The little Luce alone, with her youthful silli- 
ness, and mocking, mischievous face, served to 
interest him. 

But how wearisome it all was to him ! He 
had seen the piece twenty times without feel- 
ing in any way shocked or disgusted. On the 
contrary, the unlooked-for situations, silly 
jests and absurdities, had delighted him to such 
a degree, that at their late suppers, he was in 
the habit of amusing his friends by imitating 


High Life. 


293 


to the best of his ability all the more grotesque 
bits of the evening. 

And the music ! Could anything be more un- 
finished in style ! It was altogether flat and 
out of tune, and he could not even bring him- 
self to criticize such a performance. 

It was not want of courage on his part. No ; 
he would go through his part bravely the fol- 
lowing morning, although not having a doubt 
of the issue of the combat. 

“With the pistol,’’ said he to himself, “I 
have not a chance. My fate is ordained ! This 
freebooter has too sure an eye, and too steady 
a hand to let me escape. No ; my fate is de- 
cided !” 

And he made up his mind to it, not gaily, but 
in a determined manner. Only, by Jove! it is 
an uncomfortable experience to undergo, and 
one may be permitted, if not actually afraid, 
to be at least preoccupied, when only a few 
hours intervene between you and a violent 
death. 

After the first act he left the theatre, unable 
to support any longer the silly buffooneries of 
the actors, and the joyous delight with which 


294 


High Life:. 


their jokes were received by the good-natured 
public. 

The fresh air calmed his over -wrought 
nerves, and after looking at his watch five or 
six times, without seeing what hour it was 
(this had become a habit with him lately), he 
lighted a cigar, and continued on his way to 
the Boulevard, endeavoring to assume an air 
of indifierence. He every now and then stopjDed 
to look in at the shop windows. 

Frequently he saw nothing at all, and for 
one long moment he remained lost in admira- 
tion before a display of bottles of boot varnish. 

A chemist’s detained him a long time. One 
would have supposed he took a deep interest 
in numbering all the precious discoveries which 
showed so forcibly the genius and humanity of 
men of science. 

He roused himself at last from a deep fit of 
abstraction, resumed his walk, whistling an 
air which had been sung by the little Luce that 
evening. 

On arriving at the Cafe Anglais, he entered, 
'and was vaguely disappointed at finding him- 
self alone. 


High Life. 


295 


“Ah! well! Yes, it is true; tomorrow, in a 
few hours from now I am to be shot ! I will 
have ceased to live. Perhaps it^s all the bet- 
ter,” said he, throwing himself down on a 
chair, overcome with lassitude. 

“Fortune, rank, affection, have all been sac- 
rificed. And for what? For a woman who.... 

“No ! This woman is not responsible for my 
folly. She was not the cause, but merely an 
unconscious means, a chance occurernce, an 
accident in m^^ life, nothing more. 

“The first cause was my own want of good 
sense; reading these books, which filled my 
imagination with false ideas, and the pleasure 
of which arose from the secrecy" with which I 
purused them — the forbidden fruit. 

“This constitutes the charm and delight. 
For, after all this. Monsieur Arsene Houssa^^e 
is innocent of anAfintentional harm doing. He 
does not write these books from any unworthy 
motive, neither does he profess to believe in 
them. I was wrong to think evil of this tal- 
ented writer; wrong to attribute my weakness 
as the consequence of having devoured so 
greedily his fascinating romances. In this 


296 


High Life. 


solemn moment, while confessing my folly, I 
humbly beg to offer him my excuses. 

Having made this self-examination, Arthur 
felt more contented, and it was in this frame of 
mind that he asked for pen and ink, for the 
purpose of noting down a few last wishes, as 
he had said; an occasion for leavingHittle re- 
membrances to those of his friends whom he 
would not like to have forget him ; courteous 
proceedings for a sensible man, a sort of P. P. 
C. card. 

Singularly enough, among the numerous 
acquaintances he had made since he came to 
the gay capitol, he could not recall the name of 
one on whom he would like to bestow his mark 
of friendship, ‘‘/n extremis! 

The Countess ?.... Ah ! no! It was enough 
that he left her what he could not take away : 
the property at Geneva. 

His friend Anatole? Yes, Anatole deserved 
to be remembered. 

He had been rather hard upon him at Rigi- 
Kulm ; he had said mortifying things to him, 
the friend of his boyhood, but it arose from 


High Life. 


297 


the sincerity of his friendship. Anatole was a 
noble hearted fellow. 

And yet, Arthur left him nothing. 

There was little doubt in Arthur’s mind, nor 
difficult to understand. Anatole was a sincere 
friend and he wished him every success ; but he 
was commonplace to a degree. And, besides 
that, he had become wealthy by his marriage 
with a 3^oung person, very amiable, from every 
point of view; a young girl, in a manner even 
noble, with exqtiisite coloring, charming face, 
radiant in her youthful beauty, most decidedly 
elegant, and devoted to her husband; every- 
thing which had been denied to him, Arthur, a 
Patrician, born wealthy, etc. To leave any- 
thing to this parvenu, with a word of friend- 
ship, was it not putting himself on terms of 
equality with one so much beneath him, too 
great a condescension from one of his rank ? 

Arthur feared it, and he scratched out the 
name of Aglae’s husband, of this adorable 
Aglae, who, had he chosen, might have been 
his wife. 

But then, who remained ? 

‘‘The Baron? ....You are joking beyond 


High Life. 


298 

doubt ! A fine fellow, this Baron ! A sort of at- 
titudinizer, married to an old woman, who 
could never quite rid herself of the atmosphere 
of the bar-room, kept by her worthy parents ; 
the Baron, a gentleman calculated to provoke 
laughter, who had consented to allow his 
friend to try pistols in a duel, knowing well 
what the result must be. Nothing for the 
Baron ! 

As to the Prince Swenska, it was not to be 
thought of. There still rested some suspicion in 
his mind, with regard to the photograph dedi- 
cated to ‘‘Gustave.” And could a husband 
with this suspicion — be it right or wrong — 
still lingering in his mind, leave a memento of 
affection to one whom he still accused of 
poaching upon his preserves ? 

Arthur did not even begin to write the name 
of his other second. 

But then, damn it all! who was he going 
to leave ainThing to ? Good taste alone would 
prevent him mentioning the name of any of 
his relatives at Arles. 

“Then!” 


“What! No one?” 


High Life. 


299 


“There is s till.... Ernest ! ” said he to him- 
self. 

Yes! Ernest! Ernest had alwaj^s been 
anxious to lavish on him those little atten- 
tions and privileges, which a constant visitor 
appreciates. Ernest, many times, had re- 
served for him the best room, had placed on 
one side the choicest cigars, brought him a 
special brand of Bordeaux ; and one day, hav- 
ing parted with his last sou, and Arthur hav- 
ing explained his difficulty to the waiter, the 
latter had brought back his bill for the supper 
receipted, refusing to accept his watch as se- 
curity. 

Receipted, and paid out of his own pocket, 
too. 

Men don’t forget those sort of things, you 
know. 

So that it was not because there was no one 
else, that Arthur thought of Ernest. It was 
out of esteem. And when mention was made of 
this to him, Ernest had betrayed real emotion; 
had tried, but failed, to conceal his grief from 
Arthur. 

The young man, happy to meet with any 


300 


High Life. 


one wlio was not altogether indifferent to his 
fate, forgot appearances for the moment, and 
looking upon the old waiter simply as a friend, 
he held out his hand. 

What would his ancestors have said could 
they have seen him ? This, their last descend- 
ant, who on the night on which he was 
bound to observe the family tradition, consti- 
tuted by themselves and handed down for cen- 
turies, escaped from Bicheterre, like a malefac- 
tor with a policeman at his heels. 

Ernest hesitated, greatly confused, and not 
daring to accept the legacy, was only induced 
to do so through the insistence of Arthur. 

“Come! Come! my good friend said 
Arthur, with a liberal frankness which did not 
in any way detract from his dignity, “we all 
descend from our first parents, if our cate- 
chism teaches us correctly. 

“Besides, in these times, the true superiority 
of the man lies here!....’’ and he laid his hand 
on his heart. ” 

“Ernest,” continued Arthur, “you know 
what is going to happen to me? ” 

“Alas! Sir!” 


1 


High Life. 


301 


“You have been told? It is to be with pis- 
tols!’’ 

“I knew it, even before it was fully ar- 
ranged. We are always well informed of the 
movements of our customers.” 

“In this case, Ernest, you will understand, 
I am really not in a state to order the supper 
for to-night. Will you oblige me, and take 
complete charge of it ? ” 

“Ah! You are joking sir?” quickly replied 
the waiter. “You surely did not think I could 
fail you, sir ? ” 

“Not for a moment, Ernest.” 

“I have earned my reward,” replied the 
other. “How many are invited for to-night ?” 

“Eighteen, myself included.” 

Ernest took a pencil and paper from his 
pocket, and, although still agitated, made an 
effort to compose himself. 

Then in an altered tone, and smothering a 
sob — the sob of a tender-hearted man — he 
said : 

“I think that, under the circumstances, this 
will do....” 


302 


High Life. 


‘‘Compose yourself, Ernest, and let us con- 
sider it calmly.’’ 

More and more touched, Arthur added 
mentally: 

“He conducted himself pretty fairly, but he 
exasperated me, with his rather premature 
grief, which reminds me too forcibly of my im- 
pending fate. But it is, I suppose, from being 
so soft-hearted, and, on the whole, he does 
very well.” 

“There!” said Ernest, in a lugubrious tone. 
“Eighteen doz....0stend ; exclusively from Os- 
tend!” 

“Why exclusively? The Americans are not 
bad.” 

“Certainly not, sir; but they have a green 
shade, which would appear too gay under the 
terrible ” 

“Ah! you think, Ernest, that the green 
shade? ” 

“While the Ostend,” continued the waiter, 
“is gray, retiring! ” 

“Very good!” said Arthur, anxious to cut 
him short, “That will do for the Ostends !” 


High Life. 


303 


“Afterwards! Alas, sir, dab with mint sauce, 
simply.” 

“Yes!” 

“As an entree, followed hors d^ouvres , — 
duck, with olives.... Spanish olives; darker 
tint.” 

“Yes; and then?” 

“And then ?... Pheasant !” articulated Ernest, 
in a broken-hearted tone. “One humble pheas- 
ant supported by quails, simply on account of 
the ladies, sir, — suppported by quails !” 

He heaved a deep sigh. 

“Then,” continued he, with despair in his 
voice, “asparagus, vanilla ice and coffee, des- 
sert, grapes with vine leaves, Majorca figs, pint- 
apples from Pointre-a-Pitre, Cuban almonds ...” 

“ Very well,” interrupted Arthur, who began 
to weary, in spite of himself, of the premature 
lamentations of this ‘ ‘ friend . ” “ And for wine? ’ ' 

“ Chateau Lafitte !” 

“Very well! Lafitte, and champagne. 

That will do.” 

“Champagne!” exclaimed Ernest scandal- 
ized. “No, sir, no!” 

“No? For what reason ?” 


304 


High Life. 


^‘The circumstances 

“All! yes. But what can we have instead?’* 
Ernest made a fearful grimace in an effort 
to swallow his tears, and in a voice which be- 
trayed his emotion, he at last succeeded in 
saying : 

“ You can have some vin grave^ sir, some vin 
grave ! ! ! 

Arthur understood, and again held out his 
hand. 

“Thank you, Ernest,*’ said he, feeling impa- 
tient, but nevertheless grateful. 

“You know 3^ou can rely upon me, sir,** re- 
plied the waiter, feeling more and more highly 
honored. 

“Always, Ernest. And without wishing to 
flatter you, if my seconds had been as devoted 
as you, if.....** 

“Hush!** said the other, looking severe. 
“Your seconds, sir! I would not allow myself 
to say anything, but ** 

“ Have they been ? ** 

“Ah! Monsieur! ** 

“Come, come, it won’t go any farther.” 

“Ah, sir ! They are very much to blame !” 


High Life. 


305 


You think as I do, my good God ! I do not 
wish to say anything, either, but in ehoosing 
pistols they have simply sent me to be buteh- 
ered. Do you see, Ernest?’^ 

“It is very evident, sir.’^ 

“You agree with me, then?’^ 

“There is not a*" doubt of it ! Yet 

“Yet!’^ replied Arthur, quiekly. “Yet 
what?^^ It won’t go any further. Speak 
frankly, my good fellow.” 

“Yet, don’t be uneasy about it.” 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“I mean,” said Ernest, “ that they will hear 
more about this duel.” 

“You think so ? ” 

“Think so? I wager a hundred franes that 
they will be put in prison!....” 

“Ah! ” said Arthur, forgetting himself for a 
moment, “they deserve it.” 

The conversation had to drop. Voices were 
heard in the corridor asking for number six- 
teen. 

These were the first arrivals, accompanied 
by the Baron and his wife. 

The others, with the Prince Swenska, were 


306 


High Life. 


not long in following, and soon their party 
was complete. 

Arthur was enchanted to see them, and 
showed his pleasure by the jo3^ful cordiality of 
his reception, all the more extraordinar3% on 
account of what Ernest called the ^‘circum- 
stances.” f> 

They drank freely, swallowing the Lafitte as 
if it were milk, and in spite of the menu, so 
carefully inscribed for each, they demanded a 
host of things which were not mentioned, and 
champagne without ceasing. 

Arthur had decided on the line of conduct he 
would adopt: To the devil with melan- 
cholly! He drank like a fish, recounted 
questionable stories in ver3^ plain language, 
and took the fourth part in “La Mere Gaudi- 
chon.” 

The ladies were enchanted with him, leaving 
their ^fiaces to whisper little confidences in 
his ear, struggling with each other for the 
place nearest him, and even insinuating them- 
selves on his knees. 

The hours passed, and the poor devil forgot 
everything; his duel, with all its consequences, 


High Life. 


307 


his wife, the Count, and his seconds; even 
Ernest ! 

Suddenly, a hand was placed on his shoulder. 
He turned his head and saw the Baron, care- 
fully buttoned up to his chin, not unlike a 
supernumary who has to dissimulate the 
absence of all linen. 

“Time is up, my dear Arthur’^ said he to 
him in a hushed voice. 

“ Time for what ? 

“To go over there. 

“ Where 

The Baron put on a severe look.’’ 

“Have you forgotten what honor demands 
of you, m^^ friend ? ” asked he. 

A bucket of cold water thrown on a man in 
the act of enjoying a good romp, could not 
have had a more decided effect than the sound 
of this word “honor’’ on the mind of Arthur. 

“All right” said he proudly. “Let us 
leave.” 

He got up rapidly, and buttoned himself up 
even more closely than his second. But once 
on his feet, he seemed to see thirty-six candles 
before him, and if he had not clung to the 


308 


High Life. 


table for support, would certainly have gone 
head foremost against the wall. 

‘‘It is only the heat” said he, recovering 
himself almost immediately, and tr^dng to 
overcome the feeling of giddiness. “It is so 
awfully hot here. Let us get out. The fresh air 
will revive me.” 

Once outside, he could not remember how 
he had managed to leave “number sixteen” 
and get down stairs. Had he paid the bill? 
He had even forgotten to ask for it. When he 
quite recovered possession of his senses, he 
found himself in the corner of a cab, in front of 
two lugubriously silent figures in black. 

The windows of the cab were lowered, and a 
rush of cold, damp air came full on his face, 
rousing him from the semi-torpid condition 
into which he had sunk, while in a vague way 
the thought passed through his mind: 

“I shall certainly catch cold.” 

Catch cold! well, what did it matter. With 
every turn of the wheel was he not approach- 
ing another danger ? 

The houses, the jets of gas, the few individ- 
uals who were out at that early hour looked 


High Life. 


S09 


like guant phantoms as they hurried along the 
road. EYer3^thing seemed to pass with a be- 
wildering rapidity. He asked himself if the 
horse was a phantom, also. 

They passed the barrier, then the Faubourgs, 
and at last came upon a road lined on each 
side by trees ; some of them large and shady, 
others dwarfed and misshapen. A little fur- 
ther on a slight break appeared on the distant 
horizon. The air was heavy with a thick 
mist, and a disagreeable odor of partially de- 
composed vegetables pervaded the air. Silence 
reigned supreme. 

Where were they ? 

He could not tell. To judge by the length of 
the drive he might have been in Normandy, or 
in some unexplored country. 

Gradually daylight appeared; not far off he 
saw a wood. That must be the place, he 
thought. He tried to rouse himself, feeling 
that now, more than ever, it depended upon 
him to prove himself worthy of the name he 
bore. 

But the Lafitte hadsomethingtosayto this; 
his ideas came by fits and starts. A hundred 


310 


High Life. 


confused fancies surged through his brain, and 
his will was powerless to aid him in following 
up any continuous lineof thought. 

When at last they arrived at their destina- 
tion, the tali poplars by which they were sur- 
rounded conveyed to him so disagreeably the 
impression of being enclosed in a gigantic 
vault, that the few coherent ideas, still remain- 
ing, vanished into thin air. 

He gave up all hope of being able to strug- 
gle against this nightmarish oppression, to 
see, or to comprehend. He simply steadied his 
nerves sufficiently to preserve an imperturbable 
and firm exterior, and resigned hhnself to his 
unhappy doom. 

“The devil ! said he. 

In fact, he had only one desire, namely: 
That everything should be ended, and that 
quickly. 

The cab had stopped in the thickest part of 
the wood. The3" descended, and he was con- 
ducted by his seconds through a small path- 
way, which they were obliged to follow in 
Indian file, Arthur in the middle, following 
the Baron, who had a box in his hand. 


High Life. 


311 


They arrived at the clearing, walled in on 
one side, at the corner of which stood a sort 
of stimmer-hoitse, shaded by some surrounding 
vine trees. There was a small door in the 
wall, over which were inscribed : 

“the rendezvous of good friends.’^ 
Pure Wines. 

Giblet stew. Fresh eggs. Fried fish. 

Entrance from the Road. 

The sign of this little tavern increased Ar- 
thur’s bewilderment, so little does it take, 
under some circumstances, to upset a man’s 
equanimity. It seemed to him an almost un- 
necessary act of cruelty, to plant before the 
eyes of men, prepared to kill each other, such 
a sign as “The rendezvous of good friends.” 
It seemed singular to him that his seconds 
should choose such a place, and Ernest’s re- 
mark was forcibly recalled to him : 

“I wager a hundred francs they will be put 
in prison.” 

Glancing to one side, he fancied he distin- 
guished, behind one of the trees, something 
white, near which two forms were actively en- 


312 


High Life. 


gaged. These two figures were also clothed 
in white. 

Arthur, curious to know what they were 
about, took some steps in their direction, and 
thought he perceived a picture which rooted 
him to the grotaad, and gave him a cold shiver 
from head to foot. 

Yes, this must bean optical delusion, a freak 
of fancy, the influence of that cursed Lafitte^’ 
Was it possible that what he saw was really 
there? A table covered with a napkin, on 
which was a case of surgical instruments— 
saws, pincers, scalpels, trocars, etc., with 
bands of linen and a bundle of lint. 

And busy in preparing and arranging all 
this, and in trying the edges of the various 
instruments were two men, the surgeon and 
his assistant, with sleeves rolled up to the 
elbow, adorned with the orthodox apron, of 
which the huge pockets were stuffed with 
everything calculated to make one’s blood run 
cold. 

Let him think. Were all these precautions 
usual in affairs of this kind ? Arthur had never 
heard of it before. 


High Life. 


313 


He became more and more bewildered, and 
as he stood there, breathless, stupefied, liter- 
ally stunned, he heard some one call out his 
name. 

The little door in the wall opened, and his 
adversary stepped forward accompanied by 
two cut-throats, of the most formidable ap- 
pearance. 

The four seconds drew to one side and con- 
sulted together in a low voice as to whether 
Arthur was to be placed in full face, or pro- 
file. 

This was at all events the impression he re- 
ceived as he followed their movements. 

He had arrived at that point of impatience, 
experienced in desperate cases, when one has 
made up their mind to submit to the inevita- 
ble. All these delays exasperated him and he 
wished to heaven they would make haste. At 
last the seconds seemed to agree. Two occu- 
pied themselves in loading the pistols, while 
the others measured the ground. 

After which they placed the combatants. 
When Arthur felt himself holding a huge ma- 
chine, three times the weight of the pistols he 


314 


High Life. 


liad practiced with the day before, the abomi- 
nation of the position in which he was placed 
was completely tin veiled to his eyes. His sec- 
onds, having given him their last directions, as 
to the manner in which he must bear himself 
in order to conform to a so-called ‘^code of 
honor,” the articles of which no one had ever 
seen, he said to himself, by way of a final con- 
fession : 

“Good God, above! what a fool I have made 
of myself! That reading those silly novels 
made me despise the tranquil happiness pre- 
pared for me, is nothing. That through the 
most sublime idiocy, I preferred a plastered-up 
coc[uette, a hundred times more designing than 
any Jesuit, let even that pass. But that under 
a pretext of ‘honor’ I have consented to 
plant myself here, as a target before this blood- 
thirsty old buccaneer, to whom one would not 
lend a louis with any hope of ever seeing it 
again, an adventurer who has followed every 
trade ; half Greek, half cheat, a cross between 
a bully and a highwayman — if not on the high 
road, at least on the Pampas — not for myself, 
but for ‘honor,’ I place myself before the pis- 


High Life. 


815 


tol of a fellow wlio plays with it as easily as 
he cuts a pack of cards, while this ponderous 
weapon in my hands is as useless as a tooth- 
pick. It is truly the height of absurdity. 

His reflections were cut short. 

A blinding flash, a loud report which rever- 
berated through his brain, a mist before his 
eyes, was followed, during the millionth part 
of a second, by a vision which crossed his brain. 

It was an infernal phantasmagoria : 

Above the wall, heads appeared, forming a 
group in the foliage-clad summer-house. First 
the head of Inez, then Anatole’s, cL)se to that 
of Aglae, the two Hungarians of the boarding- 
house on the banks of the Leman, who ap- 
peared on very friendly terms with the Baron- 
ess ; Fulgence, the flower-girl, was there also ; 
all those, in fact, whom he had known since 
his arrival in Paris, whom he had met during 
his varied experience of ‘^High Life.” But 
there was an unnatural expression in their 
faces, a look of deviltry, and pointing their 
fingers at him, they seemed convulsed with 
laughter. And above them, like Jupiter seated 
on Olympus, appeared a man still youthful in 


316 


High Life. 


appearance, with curling locks, and flowing 
golden beard, and hands with exquisitely ta- 
pering fingers. 

Was he a living representation, this latter 
one? The fact admitted of no doubt. It 
seemed rather a portrait in copper-plate, 
printed in rose-colored ink. Only the half fig- 
ure was visible, a frame ornamented with Ara- 
bian figures, formed a square all around, and 
on one side floated a paper, on which was in- 
scribed two words, forming a name. 

Arthur blinked his eyes and read : 

‘‘Arsene Houssaye!” 

It was too much. He extended his arms, 
his knees gave way, and experiencing at the 
same moment a feeling of agony in his head, 
he gave a loud cry !.... 


CHAPTER IX. 


CONCLUSION. 

Allowing that the reader may be one of 
those benighted beings who, in their over- 
weening coneeit, refuse to believe all that is 
preached by Monsieur le Cure, yet you know, — 
and like myself are pretty certain — that after 
death the immaterial part of our being lives in 
the full exercise of its faculties. 

Arthur had never doubted this, and, know- 
ing that he had departed this life, he was aston- 
ished on finding himself assailed by certain 
bodily sensations, notably, a racking head- 
ache. 

A feeling of very natural curiosity impelled 
him ‘to ask where he was ? In Hades, Purga- 
tory, or Paradise ? In Limbo, more likely ; or, 
at least, in an ante-chamber leading to one of 
the aforementioned places. 

The light was uncertain ; one would imagine 


318 


High Life. 


an insufficent luminary struggling against the 
first dawn of day. After a few moments, the 
eyes of Arthur’s soul became more accustomed 
to the surrounding gloom, he was able to see 
the other half of himself. 

He was extended at full length on the 
ground, his shoulders and head excepted, 
which rested upon something firm, but soft, 
something also which imparted a feeling of 
warmth, and from which he could distinctly 
feel a regular throbbing, accompanied by a 
dull, indistinct sound, a.sort of toe-toe cadence, 
repeating itself about eighty times to the 
minute. 

Arthur soon discovered that there was ani- 
mation in this object so firm and soft. The 
toe-toe came from a perfectly sound heart, and 
came from a being analogous to the human 
species. For in fact it was on the knee of this 
being, that the head and shoulders of Arthur’s 
body rested, and against its breast that his 
head was supported. In addition, this being 
of the other world had arms and hands— a 
proof of which being, that it held in one hand 
a sort of cup, containing a smoking liquid. 


High Life. 


319 


which it blew upon softly, tasting it from time 
to time, conveying the impression that some 
of it was to be insinuated between the lips of 
what had once been Arthur. 

‘‘This must be my Guardian Angel,” reflected 
the soul of the latter. Indeed, it vras all clad 
in white, with long folds hanging do^vn on 
either side. “But there are no wings! Why 
am I made to take this mysterious prep- 
aration?” 

All this takes a long time to write, — above 
all when, doubtful of the true sense of a word, 
one is obliged to have recourse to the diction- 
ary, to learn the decision of the Academy, — 
longer to write than to take place. 

And, in fact, between Arthur’s cry and his 
last query on the subject of the m^^sterious 
drink, scarcely three minutes had elapsed. 

He had not time to answer himself, for sud- 
denly a formidable noise terrified him. It was 
like an avalanche, worse still, a deafening clat- 
ter of Auvergnat shoes across a staircase, 
accompanied by lamentations and loud calls, 
enough to make one fear that the devil himself 
h^d come to claim his prey. 


High Life. 


“ It is but just !’’ thought their prey — that is, 
the sotil of Arthur. ‘‘I had eompletely forgot- 
ten Extreme Uiietion, upon my word, I’m a 
pretty sort of fellow ; I shall have to toast for 
this to the end of time!” 

A blinding light invaded the spaee, and the 
unforttinate vietim eould think of nothing but 
fire. A ehilling silenee followed, broken by 
whisperings, like the sounds of bats’ wings. 

All eommunieations with his earthly organs 
were not altogether at an end : he seemed to 
experienee an inward sensation of eomfortable 
warmth, and he was eonseious of something 
strange eoming in eontaet with his lips. 

Upon whieh he was better able to distinguish 
surroxmdiiig objeets. He saw singular looking 
personages, with extraordinary head gear, 
and muffled up in strange garments, holding 
in their hands lighted torehes, whieh in any 
other plaee one would have sworn were 
eandles. 

He gazed upon them anxiously, and one 
Yoiee, altogether devoid of anything strident, 
and in no way reealling the rumbling of 
thunder, pronouneed these magic words : 


High Life. 


321 


Well, my cousin, do you not feel a little bet- 
ter now ? ” 

Magical, indeed, was the effect of these simple 
words; for scarcely were they uttered, when 
all the fantastic world in which Arthur’s spirit 
had been struggling, suddenly vanished. 

The supposed Guardian Angel was Char- 
lotte, his cousin Charlotte. 

The apparitions so quaintly attired, were the 
Vidame of Bicheterre, the Canoness Ste'phanie, 
with some other relations and friends of the 
family. 

Alarmed at the loud cry of the young man, 
they had all hurried into their dressing gowns 
and slippers, frightened and anxious, and now 
remained looking on with benevolent and ten 
der hearted sympathy at the care and atten- 
tion lavished on him so skillfully, by his future 
wife, since the moment, when rolling off the 
sofa, he had fallen with his head against the 
foot of the table. 

But his future wife ? How could that be ? 

And Inez, and the Count d’Aldai’a, the 
Baron, the Prince, Geneva, the Eigi-Kiilm, the 


322 


High Life. 


Hungarians, Ernest, the good but lugubrious 
Ernest, the races, the duel?.... 

It was all a painful dream, the consequences 
of too heavy a supper, and a too generous li- 
bation at the shrine of the ros}^ God — very 
natural for a y oung man accustomed to lead 
a life almost ascetic in its simplicity. 

Ah, what a sigh of thankful relief he gave. 

Yet, could it be true, that all he had 
thought lost and sacrificed, was intact, and 
still remained within his reach: the loving ten- 
derness of his beautiful little Charlotte — 
which recalled to him the Aglae of his night- 
mare — this easy quiet life, so attractive in its 
simplicity, in this old Chateau, full of reminis- 
cences of his childhood? 

He was assured of this a few moments later. 

The tenants and vassals, who, the evening 
before, had gone away in a staggering con- 
dition, returned at sunrise freshly shaved and 
arrayed in holiday attire, with bouquets and 
wedding favors pinned on their coats, singing 
in a clear voice and with heartfelt sincerity as 
they marched up to the chateau : 


High Life. 




“ Proclaim the tidings far and wide! 

For Fandansec doth take a bride. 

The earth, the sea, the birds, the air 
Give forth the fortune of Bicheterre; 

For henceforth, till their days are done, 

The houses twain shall be as one.” 

Thereupon the young man forgot the dis- 
agreeable impressions which had so agitated 
him. The care bestowed upon him, by the 
lovely little Charlotte, had been so efficacious, 
that he no longer suffered from the blow he 
had received in falling, and embracing them 
all, commencing with her, he begged them to 
delay no longer in preparing for the nuptial 
ceremony. 

At ten o’clock the mayor pronounced the 
formula, and at midday the Cure pronounced 
his benediction on their union. 

When Arthur saw preparations in progress 
for another sumptuous feast, and remembering 
his experience of the previous evening, he 
felt considerable anxiety in case he should fall 
into the same state of over-excitement, but he 
was on his guard, simply touching with his 
lips the innumerable glasses of wine offered 
to him, and when, on the following day they 


■324 


Sigh LifB. 


enquired after hia health, he replied, in all sin- 
cerity : 

have passed a much better night.’’ 


THE END. 



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and Chicago over “The North-Western Line” — C., St. P., M. & O. Ry. 

Hot and cold water is provided in both ladies’ and gentlemen’s toilet 
rooms, and the gentlemen’s smoking room is furnished with movable 
easy chairs in addition to the customary .seats. 



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m WOMAN OF ICE 

(la femme de glace.) 

BY 

ADOLPHE BELOT. 


Translated from the 45th French Edition. 


I^RKSS NOTICES. 

‘“The Woman of Ice' is credited with beingthemost suggestive book 
in the French language, Mr. Merriam’s translation is excellent and 
'shows a thorough knowledge of both languages.” — St. Paul Daily News. 

‘‘It is a piquant Frenchy French story with just enough of naughti- 
ness in it to make it saleable, and enough literary merit to atone for the 
naughtiness,” — Stillwater Democrat. 

‘‘There is not a falter from the first page to the last, and chapter 
follows chapter with a thoroughbred speed, which carries the reader to 
the finish wUhout fatigue and without tarrying a bit for fault finding or 
difficulties of coaiprehensions,” — St. Paul Daily Globe. 

‘“The Woman of Ice’ is a stirring tale of passionate Parisian life, 
strongly written, and evidently designed to teach the moral truth that 
‘the wages of sin is death,’” — Minneapolis Spectator. 

‘“The Woman of Ice,’ translated from the French of Adolphe Belot, 
is a powerfully written love story and one which maintains the reader’s 
wrapt attention from the opening chapter to the end of the book,” 

— Omaha Bee. 

‘“The Woman of Ice* is one of Adolphe Belot’s characteristic 
studies of Parisian life and realistic to a dangerous degree.” 

— Troy Times. 

‘“The Woman of Ice’ is one of those descriptions of Parisian life, 
illustrated by well chosen characters, so much affected by nearly all 
French writers of fiction. It is not the better life of Paris — the life that 
will help men and women to grow better. It is the gay and unlicensed 
convivialities and indulgences around which the clever writer can throw 
an inviting halo that is dangerous to the untutored minds of most 
American readers. The one and only justification that can be offered for 
the reading of many of these books is the exquisite style in which they 
are written. This one seems to have had a good translator, who has 
preserved much of the alluring charm of words common to the French 
school of novelists.” — Kansas City Times. 

‘‘ ‘The Woman of Ice’ is a wide awake novel from the French.” 

— Chicago Post. 

‘‘ Those who like French novels will find this an amusing story and 
well told.” — Detroit News. 

“Its language is a work of art, beautiful and striking.” 

— Pittsburg Press. 

“The book will find favor in the eyes of the habitual story reader, be- 
cause of the novelty of the situations, which are unusual, even in French 
romance.” — Milwaukee Sentinel. 


PRICE, 50 CENTS. 

The Price-McGill Publishing Co. 

ST. PAUL, MINN. 


LACE, 


READ 

A SHRED OF 


FRANKLYN W. LEE. 


PRESS NOTICES. 

‘“A Shred of Lace’ is well worth reading, and reflects the highest 
credit on its author.” — St. Paul Daily Globe. 

‘“A Shred of Lace’ is an interesting story and is told in the easy, 
inconventional style, of a naan who has seen life as it is. It is fully equal 
in merit to the best efforts of any American author of the past decade.” 

— Stillwater Democrat. 

‘“A Shred of Lace’ by Franklyn W. Lee is a readable American 
story.” — Cleveland Plain Dealer. 

“It is a society skei^ch of three or four hundred pages. Lee’s style 
is flowing and entertaining, and he or she will be an exceptional reader 
who begins the untangling of ‘A Shred of Lace’ without finishing it.” 

— Des Moines Mail and Times. 

“The story is vigorous, captivating, the work of a master-hand, and 
if perused with the spirit and understanding, may be, and should be a 
mentar, to arouse the woman of real life, to see the failure that is the in- 
evitable attendant'upon misconceived devotion to misunderstood duty.” 

— St. Paul News. 

“ The novel as a whole amounts to quite a clever satire on the sense- 
less freedom of intercourse permitted in American society between young 
people of the different sexes.” — Chicago Times. 

“The novel, ‘A Shred of Lace,’ which has just been placed in the 
market, by Frankl5m W. Lee, the eminent young author, is creating con- 
siderable comment, and indications point to a large sale.” 

— Worthington Advocate. 

“An interesting tale in which there are some charmingly poetic 
passages.” — Town Topics. 

‘“A Shred of Lace’ is so simple and so real, thatitis asimpossible 
to dissect on paper as one of the stories we see lived around us every 
day, for it is simply a few pages of real life.” — St. Paul Graphic. 

“This is a fascinating story and will probably be one of the popular 
novels of the season.” — Lewiston Journal. 

“*A Shred oe Lace ’ is a pretty story of American domestic life and 
should command a large sale.” — Omaha Bee. 

“The plot is original and there is plenty of incident in this stor3 in 
eastern New York. The interest is kept up to the end.” 

— Lincoln State Journal. 

PRICE 50 CENTS. 

The Price-McGill Publishing Co., 


SX. 


MINK 


HIS TWO LOVES 


ALBERT DELPIT. 


Translated from the ?Oth French Edition by 

m 


R. H. MERRIAM. 


PRESS NOTICES. 

“The story is a very Frenchy account of life in Paris and the prov- 
inces, in a realistic way, sensational and risque.” — L,incoln Journal. 

“Albert Delpit’s story of ‘His Two Toves’ is an exceedingly clever 
analysis of human passion. Maurice de Fonde, a gay Parisian of the 
usual type, loves successively two sisters. In the firstinstance, the liaison 
lacked tne spiritual element which alone should sanction the union of the 
sexes. In the other case, however, the sentiment was elevated and en- 
nobling, nor were the relations between the lovers debased by any im- 
moral offense. The story, although told with the usual gaiety and aban- 
don, which distinguishes M. Delpit’s school, conveys an admirable 
moral.” — Detroit News. 

“Of the French, Frenchy, this highly-seasoned romance of Parisian 
life in gay and festive circles, serves the purpose of pointing out the old 
but oft-forgotten moral that ‘ the wages of sin is death.’ Less suggestive 
than plain spoken, and bold in diction, M. Delpit exhibits none of Zola’s 
objectionable traits. To the more attractive style, he adds directness of 
purpose, and while the novel is clearly one for adults only, it is one of the 
most readable in the long category of Gallic realisms.” 

— Burlington Hawkeye. 

“‘His Two Loves’ is a successful P'rench novel with the usual 
French characteristics.” — Troy Times. 

“If the author intended to make vice hideous by exposing its worst 
side, and virtue attractive by showing the happy ending of a life of un- 
doubted purity, he has succeeded in the degree.”— Joseph News. 

PRICE 50 CENTS. 

The Price-McGill Publishing Co., 

ST. PAUL, NUNN. 


4 


• • The SGenielliine . • 



SCENE ON THE BURLINGTON 


When taking a journey East or South, be sure to select as your route 

“'PHE BURLiIflGTOIi,” 

The People’s Favorite Vestibuled Line 

between ST. PAUL MINNEAPOLIS O 

AND 

CHICAGO*® ST. LOUIS. 


For tickets, time tables, etc., call on any coupon ticket agent or address, 


JOHN R. HASTINGS, 

General Superintendent. 


W. J. C. KENYON, 

General Passenger Agent. 


ST. PAUL, MINN. 



Since brownies nimble always find 
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